on 


Gld~& 


&tn 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  AN  OLD- 
FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 


1  It  is  all  her  doing,  Phil." 


THE    ROMANCE    OF 

AN    OLD-FASHIONED 

GENTLEMAN 


BY 

F.  HOPKINSON  SMITH 
"I 

ILLUSTRATED 

BY 
A.    I.    KELLER 


CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 
NEW   YORK  :  :  1907 


Copyright,   1907,  by 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Published,    October, 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"  //  is  all  her  doing,   Phil"  Frontispiece 

Facing 
page 

And  so  the  picture  was  begun  28 

Adam  sat  with   his   head  in  his   hand::  80 

"  It    is    by    a    man    I    know,    I    saw    him 

paint  it  "  96 

cc  Promise   me  that  you  will  stop   the  wbolt 

business"  150 


MI5568 


THE    ROMANCE   OF  AN 
OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  AN  OLD- 
FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 


BLOSSOM  week  in  Maryland!     The 
air  steeped  in  perfume  and  soft  as 
a  caress;  the  sky  a  luminous  gray  inter 
woven  with  threads  of  silver,  flakings  of 
pearl  and  tiny  scales  of  opal. 

All  the  hill-sides  smothered  in  bloom — 
of  peach,  cherry,  and  pear;  in  waves,  wind 
rows  and  drifts  of  pink  and  ivory.  Here 
and  there,  fluffy  white,  a  single  tree  upheld 
like  a  bride's  bouquet  ready  for  my  lady's 
hand  when  she  goes  to  meet  her  lord.  In 
the  marshes  flames  of  fringed  azaleas  and 
the  tracings  of  budding  birch  and  willow 

m 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

outspread  like  the  sticks  of  fans.  At  their 
feet,  shouldering  their  way  upward,  big 
dock  leaves — vigorous,  lusty  leaves — eager 
to  flaunt  their  verdure  in  the  new  awaken 
ing.  Everywhere  the  joyous  songs  of  busy 
birds  fresh  from  the  Southland — flying 
shuttles  these,  of  black,  blue  and  brown, 
weaving  homes  in  the  loom  of  branch  and 
bud. 

To  the  trained  eye  of  young  Adam 
Gregg,  the  painter,  all  this  glory  of  blos 
som,  hill-side,  and  pearly  tinted  sky  came 
as  a  revelation  and  a  delight.  Drawing  rein 
on  his  sorrel  mare  he  raised  himself  in  his 
stirrups  and  swept  his  glance  over  the  land 
scape,  feasting  his  eyes  on  the  note  of 
warmth  in  the  bloom  of  the  peach — a  blos 
som  unknown  to  his  more  northern  clime, 
on  the  soft  brown  of  the  pastures,  and  on 

[4] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

the  filmy  blue  of  the  distant  hills  melting 
into  the  gray  haze  of  the  April  morning. 
Suddenly  a  thrill  shot  through  him  and  a 
fresh  enthusiasm  rose  in  his  heart:  with 
all  this  wealth  of  color  about  him,  what 
would  not  his  brush  accomplish. 

Swinging  in  his  seat  he  readjusted  the 
rain-cloak  and  painting-kit  that  were 
strapped  to  his  saddle-bags,  and  rode  on, 
his  slouch  hat  pushed  back  from  his  fore 
head  to  cool  his  brow,  his  gray  riding-coat 
unbuttoned  and  hanging  loose,  the  brown 
riding-boots  gripped  about  the  mare's 
girth. 

As  he  neared  his  destination  the  conclud 
ing  lines  of  the  letter  of  introduction  tucked 
away  in  his  pocket  kept  recurring  to  his 
mind.  He  was  glad  his  subject  was  to  be 
a  woman — one  near  his  own  age.  Women 
understood  him  better,  and  he  them.  It 

[5] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

was  the  face  and  shoulders  of  a  young  and 
pretty  woman — and  a  countess,  too — which 
had  won  for  him  his  first  Honorable  Men 
tion  in  Munich.  Would  he  be  as  lucky 
with  the  face  and  shoulders  of  the  "  beau 
tiful  girl-wife  of  Judge  Colton  "? 

Soon  the  chimneys  and  big  dormer-win 
dows  of  Derwood  Manor,  surmounting  the 
spacious  colonial  porch  with  its  high  pil 
lars,  rose  above  the  skirting  of  trees.  Then 
came  the  quaint  gate  with  its  brick  posts 
topped  by  stone  urns,  through  which  swept 
a  wide  road  bordered  by  lilac  bushes.  Dis 
mounting  at  the  horse-block  the  young 
painter  handed  the  reins  to  a  negro  boy 
who  had  advanced  to  meet  him,  and,  mak 
ing  his  way  through  a  group  of  pickanin 
nies  and  snuffing  hounds,  mounted  the 
porch. 

The  Judge  was  waiting  for  him  on  the 
[6] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

top  step  with  both  hands  outstretched  in 
welcome:  a  man  of  fifty,  smooth-shaven, 
with  iron-gray  hair,  a  thin,  straight  mouth 
and  a  jaw  as  square  as  a  law  book. 

*  You  needn't  look  for  your  letter,  Mr. 
Gregg,"  he  exclaimed  heartily.  "  The 
nephew  of  my  old  classmate  is  always  a 
welcome  guest  at  Derwood  Manor.  We 
have  been  expecting  you  all  the  morn 
ing — "  and  the  Judge  shook  the  young 
man's  hand  as  if  he  had  known  him  from 
babyhood.  It  was  in  the  early  fifties,  and 
the  hatreds  of  later  years  were  unknown 
among  men  of  equal  social  position  in  a 
land  where  hospitality  was  a  religion. 
"  Let  me  present  you  to  Mrs.  Colton  and 
my  little  son,  Phil." 

Adam  turned,  and  it  seemed  to  him  as 
if  the  glory  of  all  the  blossoms  he  had  seen 
that  day  had  gone  into  the  making  of  a 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

woman.  Dressed  all  in  white,  a  wide  blue 
sash  about  her  slender  waist;  graceful  as 
a  budding  branch  swaying  in  a  summer 
wind;  with  eyes  like  rifts  of  blue  seen 
through  clouds  of  peach  bloom;  hair  of 
spun  gold  in  lifted  waves  about  her  head, 
one  loosened  curl  straying  over  her  beau 
tiful  shoulders;  mouth  and  teeth  a  split 
pomegranate  studded  with  seeds  of  pearl 
— she  seemed  the  very  embodiment  of  all 
the  freshness,  beauty,  and  charm  of  the 
awakening  spring. 

Instantly  all  the  flesh  tones  from  rose 
madder  and  cadmium  to  indigo-blue  ran 
riot  in  his  head.  "  What  coloring,"  he 
kept  saying  to  himself — "  What  a  skin, 
and  the  hair  and  shoulders,  and  the  curl 
that  breaks  the  line  of  the  throat — never 
was  there  such  a  woman !  " 

Even  as  he  stood  looking  into  her  eyes, 
[8] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

pretending  to  listen  to  her  words  of  wel 
come,  he  was  deciding  on  the  colors  he 
would  use  and  the  precise  pose  in  which 
he  would  paint  her. 

"  And  it  is  such  a  delight  to  have  you 
with  us,"  she  was  saying  in  joyous  tones, 
as  though  his  coming  brought  a  holiday. 
u  When  I  knew  you  were  to  be  here  I  be 
gan  right  away  to  build  castles.  You  are 
to  paint  my  portrait  first,  and  then  you  are 
to  paint  Phil's.  Isn't  that  it,  Judge? 
Come,  Phil,  dear,  and  shake  hands  with 
Mr.  Gregg." 

"  Whichever  you  please,"  Adam  replied 
simply,  the  little  boy's  hand  in  his.  "  I 
only  hope  I  shall  be  able  to  do  justice  to  you 
both.  It  will  be  my  fault  if  I  don't  with 
all  this  beauty  about  me.  I  am  really 
dazed  by  these  wonderful  fruit-trees." 

"  Yes,  we're  going  to  have  a  good  sea- 

[9] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

son,"  exclaimed  the  Judge — "  best  we  have 
had  for  years,  peaches  especially.  We  ex 
pect  a " 

"  Oh,  I  only  meant  the  coloring,"  in 
terrupted  Gregg,  his  cheeks  flushing.  "  It's 
wonderfully  lovely." 

"  And  you  don't  have  spring  blossoms 
North?  "  asked  Mrs.  Colton.  Her  own 
eyes  had  been  drinking  in  the  charm  of  his 
personality;  no  color-schemes  or  palette- 
tones  were  interesting  her.  The  straight, 
lithe  figure,  square  shoulders,  open,  hon 
est  face,  sunny  brown  eyes,  with  the  short, 
crisp  hair  that  curled  about  the  temples, 
meant  something  alive  and  young:  some 
thing  that  could  laugh  when  she  laughed 
and  be  merry  over  little  things. 

"  Yes,  of  course,  but  not  this  glorious 
rose-pink,"  the  young  painter  burst  out  en 
thusiastically.  "  If  it  will  only  last  until  I 
[10] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

finish  your  portrait !  It's  really  your  month 
to  be  painted  in,  Mrs.  Colton.  You  have 
all  of  Sully's  harmonies  in  your  coloring — 
pink,  white,  blue  " — he  was  still  looking 
into  her  eyes — "  The  great  Thomas  should 
have  seen  you  first,  I  am  only  his  humble 
disciple,"  and  he  shrugged  his  square  shoul 
ders  in  a  modest  way. 

"  And  what  about  Phil?  "  she  laughed, 
catching  the  fire  of  his  enthusiasm  as  she 
drew  the  boy  closer  to  her  side. 

"  Well,  I  should  try  him  in  October. 
He  has  " — and  he  glanced  at  the  Judge — 
"  his  father's  brown  eyes  and  dark  skin. 
Nuts  and  autumn  leaves  and  red  berries  go 
best  with  that,"  he  added,  as  he  ran  his  fin 
gers  through  the  boy's  short  curls. 

"  And  an  old  fellow  like  me,  I  suppose, 
you'd  paint  with  a  foot  of  snow  on  the 
ground,"  laughed  the  Judge  dryly.  '  Well 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

— anything  to  please  Olivia.     Come,  all  of 
you,  dinner  is  waiting!  " 

The  warmth  of  the  greeting  was  as  great 
a  surprise  to  the  young  Northerner  as  the 
wealth  of  the  out-of-door  bloom.  He  had 
been  hospitably  received  in  similar  jour 
neys  in  his  own  State,  but  never  quite  like 
this.  There  it  was  a  matter  of  business  un 
til  he  had  become  "  better  acquainted," 
even  when  he  stayed  in  the  houses  of  his 
patrons.  He  remembered  one  old  farmer 
who  wanted  to  put  him  in  a  room  over  the 
stable  with  the  hired  man,  and  another,  a 
mill-owner,  who  deducted  the  sum  of  his 
board  from  the  price  of  the  picture,  but 
here  he  had  been  treated  as  one  of  the 
family  from  the  moment  his  foot  touched 
their  door-step.  The  Judge  had  not  only 
placed  him  on  his  right  hand  at  table,  but 

[12] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

had  sent  old  Bundy,  the  family  butler, 
down  into  the  wine-cellar  for  a  bottle  of  old 
Madeira,  that  had  "  rusted  away  in  his 
cellar,"  he  said,  for  thirty  years,  and  which 
he  would  open  in  remembrance  of  his  col 
lege  days,  when  his  guest's  uncle  was  his 
chum  and  classmate. 

Several  days  had  passed  before  he  would 
even  allow  Adam  to  take  out  his  brushes 
and  prepare  his  canvas  for  work;  his  ex 
planation  being  that  as  he  was  obliged  to 
go  on  Circuit,  he  would  like  to  enjoy  his 
visitor's  society  before  he  left.  There 
would  be  plenty  of  time  for  the  picture 
while  he  was  away.  Then  too  it  would 
come  as  a  full  surprise  on  his  return — not 
a  half-completed  picture  showing  the  work 
of  days,  but  a  finished  portrait  alive  not 
only  with  the  charm  of  the  sitter,  but  with 
the  genius  of  the  master.  This  was  pro- 

[13] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

claimed  with  a  courteous  wave  of  his  hand 
to  his  wife  and  Adam,  as  if  she,  too,  would 
be  held  responsible  for  the  success  of  the 
portrait. 

The  morning  before  his  departure  he 
called  Olivia  and  Adam,  and  the  three 
made  a  tour  of  the  rooms  in  search  of  a 
suitable  place  where  his  easel  could  be  set 
up  and  the  work  begun.  All  three  admitted 
that  the  study  was  too  dark,  and  so  was  the 
library  unless  the  vines  were  cleared  from 
the  windows,  which  was,  of  course,  out  of 
the  question,  the  Judge's  choice  finally  rest 
ing  on  one  corner  of  the  drawing-room, 
where  a  large  window  let  in  a  little  more 
light.  In  acquiescence  the  young  painter 
drew  back  the  curtains  and  placed  his  sub 
ject  first  on  the  sofa  and  then  in  an  arm 
chair,  and  again  standing  by  the  sash,  and 
once  more  leaning  over  the  window-sill; 

[14] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

but  in  no  position  could  he  get  what  he 
wanted. 

"  Suit  yourselves,  then,"  said  the  Judge, 
"  and  pick  out  your  own  place,  and  make 
yourselves  as  comfortable  as  you  can — 
only  don't  hurry  over  it.  I  shall  not  be 
back  for  a  month,  and  if  that  is  not  time 
enough,  why,  we  have  all  summer  before 
us.  As  to  your  other  comforts,  my  dear 
Adam — and  I  rejoice  to  see  you  know  a 
good  bottle  of  wine  when  you  taste  it — I 
have  given  Bundy  express  orders  to  decant 
for  you  some  of  the  old  Tiernan  of  '28, 
which  is  a  little  dryer  than  even  that  special 
bottle  of  the  Madeira  you  liked  so  well. 
My  only  regret  is  that  I  cannot  share  it  with 
you.  And  now  one  word  more  before  I 
say  good-by,  and  that  is  that  I  must  ask 
you,  my  dear  Gregg,  to  do  all  you  can 
to  keep  Mrs.  Colton  from  becoming  lonely. 

[15] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

You  will,  of  course,  as  usual,  accompany 
her  in  her  afternoon  rides,  and  I  need  not 
tell  you  that  my  own  horses  are  at  your  dis 
posal.  When  I  return  I  hope  to  be  wel 
comed  by  two  Olivias;  one  which  by  your 
genius  you  will  put  on  canvas,  and  the 
other  " — and  he  bov/ed  grandiloquently  to 
his  wife — "  I  leave  in  your  charge." 

The  young  painter  took  the  first  oppor 
tunity  to  discharge  his  duty — an  opportu 
nity  afforded  him  when  the  Judge,  after 
kissing  his  wife  and  shaking  hands  with 
Adam  the  morning  he  left,  had  stepped 
into  his  gig,  his  servant  beside  him,  and 
with  a  lifting  of  his  hat  in  punctilious  cour 
tesy,  had  driven  down  between  the  lilacs. 
It  may  have  been  gallantry  or  it  may  have 
been  the  pathetic  way  in  which  she  waved 
her  handkerchief  in  return  that  roused  the 
boyish  sympathy  in  his  heart : 
[16] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

"  Don't  worry,"  he  said  in  a  voice  full 
of  tenderness.  "  He  won't  be  long  gone — 
only  a  month,  he  says;  and  don't  be  un 
happy — I'm  going  to  do  everything  to 
cheer  you  up." 

"  But  I'm  never  lonely,"  she  answered 
with  an  air  of  bravado,  "  and  I  try  never 
to  be  unhappy.  I  always  have  Phil.  And 
now,"  and  she  broke  out  into  a  laugh,  "  I 
have  you,  and  that  makes  me  feel  just  as  I 
did  as  a  girl  when  one  of  the  boys  came 
over  to  play  with  me.  Come  upstairs,  right 
away,  and  let  me  show  you  the  big  garret. 
I'm  just  crazy  to  see  you  begin  work,  and 
I  really  believe  that's  the  best  place,  after 
all.  It's  full  of  old  trunks  and  furniture, 
but  there's  a  splendid  window " 

"  On  which  side  of  the  house,  north  or 
south?  I  must  have  a  north  light,  you 
know." 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

"  Yes — north;  looking  straight  up  into 
your  freezing  cold  country,  sir !  This  way  I 
Come  along!"  she  cried  joyously  as  she 
mounted  the  stairs,  little  Phil,  as  usual, 
tumbling  after  them. 

Adam  entered  first  and  stood  in  the  mid 
dle  of  the  floor  looking  about  him. 

"  Superb!  "  he  cried.  "  Just  the  very 
place!  What  a  magnificent  light — so  di 
rect,  and  not  a  reflection  from  anything." 

It  was,  indeed,  an  ideal  studio  to  one  ac 
customed  to  the  disorder  of  beautiful 
things.  Not  only  was  there  a  hip  roof, 
with  heavy,  stained  beams  and  brown 
shingles,  but  near  its  crotch  opened  a  wide, 
round-topped  window  which  shed  its  light 
on  the  dilapidated  relics  of  two  generations 
— old  spinning-wheels,  hair  trunks,  high- 
post,  uncoupled  bedsteads;  hair-cloth  sofas, 
and  faded  curtains  of  yellow  damask,  while 
[18] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

near  the  door  rested  an  enormous  jar 
brought  up  from  the  garden  to  catch  the 
drip  of  a  leaky  shingle — all  so  much  lum 
ber  to  Olivia,  but  of  precious  value  to  the 
young  painter,  especially  the  water  jar, 
which  reminded  him  of  those  he  had  seen 
in  Sicily  when  he  was  tramping  through 
its  villages  sketching. 

"  Just  the  place — oh,  wonderful !  Won 
derful  !  Let  me  shout  down  for  Bundy  and 
we'll  move  everything  into  shape  right 
away." 

"  Are  you  going  to  take  them  out  or 
push  them  back?"  exclaimed  Olivia,  her 
eyes  growing  wide  with  wonder  as  she 
watched  him  begin  work. 

"  No,  not  going  to  move  out  one  of 
them.  You  just  wait — I'll  show  you!" 
The  boy  in  him  was  coming  out  now. 

And  Olivia  did  wait,  uttering  little  cries 

[19] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

of  delight  or  inquiry  meanwhile,  as  she 
tripped  after  him,  her  skirts  lifted  above 
her  dainty  ankles  to  keep  them  from  the 
dust.  "  Oh,  that  ugly  old  bureau;  shan't 
we  send  it  away?  "  followed  by  "  Yes,  I  do 
think  that's  better."  And,  "  Oh,  are  you 
going  to  put  that  screen  there !  "  gouty  old 
Bundy  joining  in  with  u  Well,  fo'  de  Lawd, 
Miss  'Livy,  I  neber  did  see  no  ol'  truck 
come  to  life  agin  befo'  by  jes'  shovin'  it 


'rounV 


"  And  now  get  a  sheet!  "  cried  Adam, 
when  everything  had  been  arranged  to  his 
liking.  ;<  We'll  tack  it  across  the  lower 
half  of  the  window.  Then  Bundy,  please 
go  down  and  bring  up  two  buckets  of  water 
and  pour  it  into  this  jar.  Now,  Mrs.  Col- 
ton,  come  along,  you  and  I  will  bring  up 
blossoms  enough  to  fill  it,"  and  the  two 
dashed  downstairs  and  out  into  the  orchard 

[20] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

with  the  swoop  of  two  swallows  out  for 
an  airing. 

Even  Bundy  had  to  admit  to  old  Dinah, 
when  he  had  returned  to  the  kitchen,  that 
the  transformation  of  a  lumber-room  into 
a  cosy  studio  was  little  less  than  miraculous. 

"  Dat  painter  gemman  do  beat  de  Ian'," 
he  chuckled.  "  Got  dat  ol'  garret  lookin' 
like  a  parlor  fixed  up  for  comp'ny.  Ye 
oughter  see  dem  oP  hair-backs  wid  de  bot 
toms  busted — got  'em  kivered  up  wid  dem 
patchwork  bedspreads  an'  lookin'  like  dey 
was  fit  for  de  ol'  mist'ess's  bedroom.  An' 
he's  got  dem  oP  yaller  cut'ains  we  useter 
hab  in  de  settin'-room  hung  on  de  fo'-post- 
ers  as  sort  o'  screens  fencin'  off  one  corner 
ob  de  room  jes'  by  de  do'.  Dat  ol'  carpet's 
spread  out;  dat  one-legged  spinnin'-wheel's 
propped  up  and  standin'  roun';  dem  oP 
stable  lanterns  is  hung  to  de  rafters.  I  clar' 

[21] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

to  goodness,  ye  wouldn't  believe!  Now 
dey  jes'  sont  me  down  for  two  buckets  o' 
water  to  fill  dat  oP  jar  we  useter  hab  set- 
tin'  out  here  on  de  po'ch.  He  and  de  young 
mist'ess  is  out  now  lookin'  for  peach  blos 
soms  to  fill  it.  He's  a  wonder,  I  tell  ye!  " 

The  masses  of  blossoms  arranged  in  the 
big  jar — the  tops  of  their  branches  reach 
ing  the  water-stained  roof;  a  canvas  for  a 
half-length  tacked  on  a  stretcher  and  placed 
on  an  improvised  easel,  Adam  began  pry 
ing  into  the  dark  corners  for  a  seat  for  his 
model,  Olivia  following  his  every  move 
ment,  her  eyes  twice  their  usual  size  in  her 
ever-increasing  astonishment  and  delight. 

"Hello,  here's  just  the  thing!"  he 
shouted,  dragging  out  a  high-back  chair 
with  some  of  the  lower  rungs  gone,  and 
dusting  it  off  with  his  handkerchief.  u  Sit 
here  and  let  me  see  how  the  light  falls.  No, 

[22] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

that  isn't  good;  that  dress  won't  do  at  all." 
(The  gown  came  too  far  up  on  her  neck 
to  suit  this  artistic  young  gentleman's  ideas 
regarding  the  value  of  curved  lines  in  por 
traiture.)  '  That  collar  spoils  everything. 
Can't  you  wear  something  else  ?  I'd  rather 
see  you  in  full  dress.  I  want  the  line  of 
the  throat  ending  in  the  sweep  of  the  shoul 
der,  and  then  I  want  the  long  curl  against 
the  flesh  tones.  You  haven't  worn  your 
hair  that  way  since  I  came;  and  where's 
the  dress  you  had  on  the  day  I  arrived? 
The  colors  suited  you  perfectly.  I  shall 
never  forget  how  you  looked — it  was  all 
blossoms,  you  and  everything  —  and  the 
background  of  the  dark  door,  and  the 
white  of  the  porch  columns,  with  just  a 
touch  of  yellow  ochre  to  break  it —  Oh, 
it  was  delicious !  Please,  now,  put  that 
dress  on  again  and  wear  a  low-neck  waist 

[23] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

with  it.  The  flesh  tones  of  the  throat  and 
shoulders  will  be  superb  and  I  know  just 
how  to  harmonize  them  with  this  back 
ground." 

It  was  the  picture,  not  the  woman,  that 
filled  his  soul.  Flesh  tones  heightened  by 
a  caressing,  lingering  curl,  and  relieved  by 
green  leaves  and  flowers,  were  what  had 
made  the  Munich  picture  a  success. 

"  But  I  haven't  any  low-necked  gowns. 
Those  I  had  when  I  was  married  are  all 
worn  out,  and  I've  never  needed  any  since. 
My  nearest  neighbors  are  ten  miles  away, 
and  half  the  time  I  dine  with  only  Phil." 

"Well,  but  can't  you  fix  something?" 
persisted  Adam,  bent  on  the  composition  he 
had  in  his  mind.  "  Everybody's  been  so 
good  to  me  here  I  want  this  portrait  to  be 
the  very  best  I  can  do.  What  is  in  these 
trunks?  There  must  be  some  old  dresses 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

belonging  to  somebody's  grandmother  or 
somebody's  aunt.  Do  you  mind  my  open 
ing  this  one?  It's  unlocked." 

Adam  lifted  the  lid.  A  faded  satin 
gown  belonging  to  the  Judge's  mother  lay 
on  the  top.  The  old  lady  had  been  born 
and  brought  up  under  this  roof,  and  was 
still  alive  when  the  Judge's  first  wife  died. 

"  Here's  the  very  thing." 

"And  you  really  want  that  old  frock? 
All  right,  Mr.  Autocrat,  I'll  run  down  and 
put  it  on." 

She  was  like  a  child  dressing  for  her  first 
party.  Twice  did  her  hair  fall  about  her 
shoulders  and  twice  must  she  gather  it  up, 
fingering  carefully  the  long  curl,  patting  it 
into  place;  hooking  the  bodice  so  that  all 
its  modesty  would  be  preserved  and  yet  the 
line  of  the  throat  show  clear,  shaking  out 
the  full,  pannier-like  skirt  until  it  stood  out 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

quite  to  her  liking.  Then  with  a  mock 
curtsey  to  herself  in  the  glass,  she  dashed 
out  of  the  room,  up  the  narrow  stairs  and 
into  the  garret  again  before  he  had  had 
time  to  sort  over  his  brushes. 

"  Lovely!  "  he  burst  out  enthusiastically 
when  she  had  whirled  round  so  he  could 
see  all  sides  of  her.  "  It's  more  beautiful 
than  the  one  I  first  saw  you  in.  Now  you 
look  like  a  bit  of  old  Dresden  china —  No, 
I  think  you  look  like  a  little  French 
queen.  No,  I  don't  know  what  you  do 
look  like,  only  you're  the  loveliest  thing  I 
ever  saw !  " 

The  gown  fitted  her  perfectly;  part  of 
her  neck  was  bare,  the  single  curl,  just  as  he 
wanted  it,  straying  over  it.  Then  came 
the  waist  of  ivory-white  flowered  satin  with 
elbow  sleeves,  and  then  the  puffy  panniers 
drooped  about  the  slender  bodice.  As  he 

[26] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

drank  in  her  beauty  the  blood  went  tingling 
through  his  veins.  He  had  thought  her 
lovely  that  first  morning  when  he  saw  her 
on  the  porch:  then  she  was  all  blossoms; 
now  she  was  a  vision  of  the  olden  time  for 
whose  lightest  smile  brave  courtiers  fought 
and  bled. 

"  That's  it,  keep  your  head  up !  "  he 
cried,  as  with  many  steppings  backward 
and  forward,  he  conducted  her  to  the  old 
chair,  and  with  the  air  of  a  grand  cham 
berlain  placed  her  upon  it,  adding  in  mock 
gallantry  : 

"  Sit  there,  fair  lady  mine,  while  your 
humble  slave  makes  obeisance.  To  touch 
the  hem  of  your  garment  would  be —  Oh, 
but  aren't  you  lovely !  And  the  tone  of  old 
ivory  in  the  satin,  and  the  exquisite  flesh 
notes — and  the  way  the  curl  lies  on  the 
shoulder!  You  are  adorable!  " 

[27] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

And  so  the  picture  was  begun. 

The  hours  and  the  days  that  followed 
were  hours  and  days  of  never-ending  joy 
and  frolic.  While  it  was  still  "  Mr. 
Gregg "  and  "  Mrs.  Colton,"  it  was  as 
often  "  Uncle  Adam  "  by  little  Phil  (the 
three  were  never  separated)  and  now  and 
then  "  Marse  Adam  "  by  old  Bundy,  who 
sought  in  this  way  to  emphasize  his  mas 
ter's  injunction  to  "  look  after  Mr.  Gregg's 
comfort." 

Nor  did  the  supervision  stop  here.  Un 
der  Olivia's  instructions  and  with  Bundy's 
help,  the  big  dining-room  table,  with  the 
Judge's  seat  at  one  end,  hers  at  the  other, 
and  little  Phil  in  his  high  chair  in  the  mid 
dle,  was  given  up  and  moved  out  as  being 
altogether  too  formal  and  the  seats  too  far 
apart,  and  a  small  one,  sprinkled  daily  with 
fresh  damask  roses  that  she  herself  had 

[28] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

culled  from  the  garden,  was  substituted. 
The  great  window  in  the  library,  which  had 
always  been  kept  closed  by  reason  of  a 
draught  which  carromed  on  the  door  of  the 
study  and  struck  the  Judge  somewhere  be 
tween  his  neck  and  his  shoulders,  was  now 
thrown  wide  and  kept  wide,  and  the  porch 
chairs,  three  of  them,  which  had  precise 
positions  fixed  for  them  between  the  low 
windows,  were  dragged  out  under  the  big 
apple-tree  shading  the  lawn  and  moved  up 
to  another  table  that  Bundy  had  carried 
down  from  one  of  the  spare  rooms. 

And  then  the  joy  of  being  for  the  first 
time  the  real  head  of  the  house  when  "  com 
pany  "  was  present — free  to  pour  out  her 
hospitality  in  her  own  way — free  to  fix  the 
hours  of  breakfast,  dinner,  and  supper,  and 
what  should  be  cooked,  and  how  served; 
free  to  roam  the  rooms  at  her  pleasure,  in 

[29] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

and  out  of  the  silent  study  without  the 
never-infringed  formality  of  a  knock. 

And  the  long  talks  in  the  improvised 
studio,  she  sitting  under  the  big  north  win 
dow  in  the  softened  light  of  the  sheet;  the 
joy  she  took  in  his  work;  the  charm  of 
his  sympathetic  companionship.  Then  the 
long  rides  on  horseback  when  the  morn 
ing's  work  was  over,  she  on  Black  Bess,  he 
on  his  own  mare;  the  rompings  and  laugh 
ter  in  the  cool  woods ;  the  delight  over  the 
bursting  of  new  blossoms;  the  budding  of 
new  leaves  and  tendrils,  and  the  ceaseless 
song  of  the  birds!  Were  there  ever  days 
like  these ! 

And  the  swing  and  dash  and  freedom  of 
it  all !  The  perfect  trust,  each  in  the  other. 
The  absence  of  all  coquetry  and  allurement, 
of  all  pretence  or  sham.  Just  chums,  good 
fellows,  born  comrades;  joining  in  the  same 

[30] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

laugh,  stilled  by  the  same  thoughts;  ab 
sorbed  in  the  same  incidents,  no  matter 
how  trivial :  the  hiving  of  a  swarm  of  bees, 
the  antics  of  a  pair  of  squirrels,  or  the  un 
folding  of  a  new  rose.  He  twenty-five, 
clean-souled,  happy-hearted;  lithe  as  a  sap 
ling  and  as  graceful  and  full  of  spring.  She 
twenty-two,  soft-cheeked  as  a  summer  rose 
and  as  sweet  and  wholesome  and  as  inno 
cent  of  all  guile  as  a  fawn,  drinking  in  for 
the  first  time,  in  unknown  pastures,  the 
fresh  dew  of  the  morning  of  life. 

And  the  little  comedy  in  the  garret  was 
played  to  the  very  end. 

Each  day  my  lady  would  dress  herself 
with  the  greatest  care  in  the  flowered  satin 
and  coax  the  stray  curl  into  position,  and 
each  day  Adam  would  go  through  the  cere 
mony  of  receiving  her  at  the  door  with  his 
mahl-stick  held  before  him  like  a  staff  of 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

state.  Then,  bowing  like  a  courtier,  he 
would  lead  her  past  the  yellow  satin  screen 
and  big  jar  of  blossoms  and  place  her  in 
the  high-back  chair,  little  Phil  acting  as 
page,  carrying  her  train. 

And  so  the  picture  was  finished! 

On  that  last  day,  as  he  stood  in  front  of 
it,  the  light  softened  by  the  screening  sheet 
falling  full  upon  it,  his  heart  swelled  with 
pride.  He  knew  what  his  brush  had 
wrought.  Not  only  had  he  given  the  ex 
act  pose  he  had  labored  for — the  bent  head, 
the  full  throat,  the  slope  of  the  gently  fall 
ing  line  from  the  ear  to  the  edge  of  the 
corsage,  the  round  of  the  white  shoulders 
relieved  by  the  caressing  curl;  but  he  had 
caught  a  certain  joyous  light  in  the  eyes — 
a  light  which  he  had  often  seen  in  her  face 
when,  with  a  sudden  burst  of  affection,  she 

[32] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

had  strained  little  Phil  to  her  breast  and 
kissed  him  passionately. 

"  I'm  not  so  beautiful  as  that,"  she  had 
said  to  Adam  with  a  deprecatory  tone  in 
her  voice,  as  the  two  stood  before  it.  "  It's 
only  because  you  think  I  am,  and  because 
you've  kept  on  saying  it  over  and  over  until 
you  believe  it.  It's  the  gown  and  the  peach 
blossoms  in  the  jar  behind  my  chair — 
not  me." 

The  servants  were  none  the  less  enthusi 
astic.  Bundy  screwed  up  his  toad  eyes  and 
expressed  the  opinion  that  it  was  "  de 
'spress  image,"  and  fat  old  Aunt  Dinah, 
who  had  stumbled  up  the  garret  stairs  from 
the  kitchen,  the  first  time  in  years — her 
quarters  being  on  the  ground  floor  of  one 
of  the  cabins — put  on  her  spectacles,  and 
lifting  up  her  hands,  exclaimed  in  a  camp- 
meeting  voice : 

[33] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

"  De  Lawd  wouldn't  know  t'other  from 
which  if  both  on  ye  went  to  heaben  dis 
minute !  Dat's  you,  sho'  nuff,  young 


mist'ess." 


Only  one  thing  troubled  the  young 
painter:  What  would  the  Judge  say  when 
he  returned  in  the  morning?  What  altera 
tions  would  he  insist  upon?  He  had  been 
compelled  so  many  times  to  ruin  a  success 
ful  picture,  just  to  please  the  taste  of  the 
inexperienced,  that  he  trembled  lest  this, 
the  best  work  of  his  brush,  should  share 
their  fate.  Should  the  Judge  disapprove 
Olivia's  heart  would  well  nigh  be  broken, 
for  she  loved  the  picture  as  much  as  he  did 
himself. 

The  night  before  Judge  Colton's  return 
the  two  sat  out  on  the  porch  in  the  moon 
light.  The  air  was  soft  and  full  of  the 

[34] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

coming  summer.  Fire-flies  darted  about; 
the  croaking  of  tree-toads  could  be  heard. 
From  the  quarters  of  the  negroes  came  the 
refrain  of  an  old  song : 

"  Corn  top's  ripe  and  de  meadow's  in  de  bloom, 
Weep  no  mo'  me  lady." 

"  I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  dreaming  and 
had  just  waked  up,"  sighed  Olivia.  "  Is  it 
all  over?" 

"  Yes,  I  can't  make  it  any  better,"  he  an 
swered  in  a  positive  tone,  his  thoughts  on 
his  picture. 

"  Must  you  go  away  after  you  finish 
Phil's?  "  Her  mind  was  not  on  the  por 
trait. 

"  Yes,  unless  the  Judge  wants  his  own 
painted.  I  wish  he  would.  I'd  love  to  stay 
with  you — you've  been  so  kind  to  me.  No 
body  has  ever  been  so  good." 

[35] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

"  And  you've  been  very  kind  to  me," 
Olivia  sighed.  "  Oh,  so  kind !  " 

"  And  just  think  how  beautiful  it  is 
here,"  he  rejoined;  "  and  the  wonderful 
weather;  and  the  lovely  life  we  have  led. 
You  ought  to  be  very  contented  in  so  beau 
tiful  a  home,  with  everybody  so  good  to 
you." 

"  It's  all  been  very,  very  happy,  hasn't 
it?  "  She  had  not  listened,  nor  had  she  an 
swered  him.  It  was  the  refrain  of  the  old 
song  that  filled  her  ears. 

"  Yes,  the  happiest  of  my  life.  If  you'd 
been  my  own  sister  you  couldn't  have  been 
lovelier  to  me." 

"Where  shall  you  go?"  She  was  not 
looking  at  him.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  the 
group  of  trees  breaking  the  sky  line. 

"  Home,  to  my  people,"  he  answered 
slowly. 

[36] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

"  How  far  away  is  it?  " 
"  Oh,  a  long  distance !    It  takes  me  three 
days'  constant  riding  to  get  home." 
"  And  you  love  them?  " 
"  Yes.'7 

"  Do  they  love  you?  " 
"  Yes." 
Again  the  song  rolled  out : 

"  Few  mo'  days  to  tote  de  weary  load, 
Weep  no  mo'  me  lady." 


[37] 


II 

THE  home-coming  of  the  master 
brought  everybody  on  the  run  to 
the  porch :  the  men  in  the  neighboring  field; 
the  gardener,  who  came  bounding  over  his 
flower-beds;  Aunt  Dinah,  drying  her  fat 
hands  on  her  apron,  to  grasp  her  master's; 
Bundy,  who  helped  him  to  alight;  half  a 
dozen  pickaninnies  and  twice  as  many  dogs, 
and  last  Adam  and  Olivia,  wrho  came  flying 
down  the  front  stairs,  followed  by  little 
Phil. 

The  Judge  alighted  from  the  gig  with 
some  difficulty,  Bundy  guiding  his  foot  so 
that  it  rested  on  the  iron  step,  and  helped 
him  to  the  ground.  The  ride  had  been  a 

[38] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

trying  one,  and  the  heat  and  dust  had  left 
their  marks  on  his  face. 

"And  how  about  the  portrait?"  were 
his  first  words  after  kissing  his  wife 
and  child  and  shaking  hands  with  Gregg. 
"  Is  it  finished,  and  are  you  pleased, 
my  dear?  " 

'  Yes,  and  it's  lovely,  only  it's  not  me, 
I  tell  him." 

"  Not  you?    Who  is  it,  then?  " 

"  Oh,  somebody  twice  as  pretty!  " 

"  No.  It's  not  one-quarter,  not  one- 
tenth  as  beautiful!  "  There  was  a  ring  in 
Adam's  voice  that  showed  the  tribute  came 
from  his  heart. 

"  But  that's  the  dress  and  the  back 
ground;  and  the  lovely  blossoms.  Oh, 
you'd  never  believe  that  old  jar  could  look 
so  well!" 

"Background!     Jar!     Where  did  you 

[39] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

sit?  "  He  had  changed  his  coat  now,  and 
Bundy  was  brushing  the  dust  from  his 
trousers  and  shoes. 

"  Oh,  up  in  the  garret.  You  wouldn't 
know  the  place.  Mr.  Gregg  pulled  every 
thing  round  until  it  is  the  cosiest  room  you 


ever  saw." 


The  Judge  shot  a  quick,  searching  glance 
at  Adam.  Then  his  eye  took  in  the  lithe, 
graceful  figure  of  the  young  man,  so  buoy 
ant  with  health  and  strength. 

"  Up  in  the  garret !  Why  didn't  you 
paint  it  here,  or  in  the  front  room?  " 

"  I  needed  a  north  light,  sir." 

"  And  you  could  only  find  that  in  a  gar 
ret?  I  should  have  thought  the  parlor  was 
the  place  for  a  lady.  And  are  you  satis 
fied  with  the  result?  "  he  asked  in  a  more 
formal  tone,  as  he  dropped  into  a  chair  and 
turned  to  Adam.  The  long  ride  had  fa- 

[40] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

tigued  him  more  than  he  had  thought  pos 
sible. 

"  Well,  it  certainly  is  the  best  thing  I 
have  ever  done.  The  flesh  tones  are  purer, 
and  the " 

The  Judge  looked  up :  "  Of  the  face?  " 

"  All  the  flesh  tones — especially  the 
tones  around  the  curl  where  it  lies  on  the 
bare  shoulder." 

He  was  putting  his  best  foot  forward, 
arguing  his  side  of  the  case.  Half  of 
Olivia's  happiness  would  be  gone  if  her  hus 
band  were  disappointed  in  the  portrait. 

"  Let  us  go  up  and  look  at  it,"  the  Judge 
said,  as  if  impelled  by  some  sudden  re 
solve. 

When  he  reached  the  garret — Adam  and 
Olivia  and  little  Phil  had  gone  ahead — 
he  stopped  and  looked  about  him. 

"  Well,  upon  my  soul !  You  have  turned 

[41] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

things  upside  down,"  he  remarked  in  a 
graver  tone.  "  And  here's  where  you  two 
have  spent  all  these  days,  is  it?  "  Again  his 
eye  rested  on  Adam's  graceful  figure,  whose 
cheeks  were  flushed  with  his  run  upstairs. 
With  the  glance  came  a  certain  feeling  of 
revolt,  as  if  the  lad's  very  youth  were  an 
affront. 

"  Only  in  the  morning,  sir,  while  the 
light  lasted,"  explained  Adam,  noticing  the 
implied  criticism  in  the  coldness  of  the 
Judge's  tones. 

"  Turn  the  picture,  please,  Mr.  Gregg." 

For  a  brief  moment  the  Judge,  with  fold 
ed  arms,  gazed  into  the  canvas;  then  the 
straight  lips  closed,  the  brow  tightened,  and 
an  angry  glow  mounted  to  the  very  roots 
of  his  gray  hair. 

"  Mr.  Gregg,"  said  the  Judge  in  the 
same  measured  tone  with  which  he  would 

[42] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

have  sentenced  a  criminal,  "  if  I  did  not 
know  you  to  be  a  gentleman,  and  incapable 
of  dishonor,  I  should  ask  you  to  leave  my 
house.  You  may  not  have  intended  it,  sir, 
but  you  have  abused  my  hospitality  and  in 
sulted  my  home.  My  wife  is  but  a  child, 
and  easily  influenced,  and  you  should  have 
protected  her  in  my  absence,  as  I  would 
have  protected  yours.  The  whole  thing  is 
most  disturbing,  sir — and  I " 

"  Why  —  why  —  what  is  the  matter?  " 
gasped  Adam.  The  suddenness  of  the  at 
tack  had  robbed  him  of  his  breath. 

"  Matter !  "  thundered  the  Judge.  "  Bad 
taste  is  the  matter,  if  not  worse !  No 
woman  should  ever  uncover  her  neck 
to  any  man  but  her  husband!  You  have 
imposed  upon  her,  sir,  with  your  for 
eign  notions.  The  picture  shall  never  be 
hung!" 

[43] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

"  But  it  is  your  own  mother's  dress," 
pleaded  Olivia,  a  sudden  flush  of  indigna 
tion  rising  in  her  face.  "  We  found  it  in 
the  trunk.  It's  on  my  bed  now — I'll  go 
get  it " 

"  I  don't  want  to  see  it !  What  my 
mother  wore  at  her  table  in  the  presence 
of  my  father  and  his  guests  is  not  what 
she  would  have  worn  in  her  garret  day 
after  day  for  a  month  with  her  hus 
band  away.  You  should  have  remembered 
your  blood,  Olivia,  and  my  name  and 
position." 

"  Judge  Colton !  "  cried  Adam,  stepping 
nearer  and  looking  the  Judge  square  in  the 
eyes — all  the  forces  of  his  soul  were  up  in 
arms  now — "  your  criticisms  and  your 
words  are  an  insult!  Your  wife  is  as  un 
conscious  as  a  child  of  any  wrong-doing, 
and  so  am  I.  I  found  the  dress  in  the  trunk 

[44] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

and  made  her  put  it  on.  Mrs.  Colton  has 
been  as  safe  here  with  me  as  if  she  had 
been  my  sister,  and  she  has  been  my  sister 
every  hour  of  the  day,  and  I  love  her 
dearly.  I  have  told  her  so,  and  I  tell  you 
so  I  " 

The  Judge  was  accustomed  to  read  the 
souls  of  men,  and  he  saw  that  this  one  was 
without  a  stain. 

"  I  believe  you,  Gregg,"  he  said,  extend 
ing  his  hand.  "  I  have  been  hasty  and  have 
done  you  a  wrong.  Forgive  me!  And 
you,  too,  Olivia.  I  am  over-sensitive  about 
these  things:  perhaps,  too,  I  am  a  little 
tired.  We  will  say  no  more  about  it." 

That  night  when  the  Judge  had  shut 
himself  up  in  his  study  with  his  work,  and 
Olivia  had  gone  to  her  room,  Adam 
mounted  the  stairs  and  flung  himself  down 

[45] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

on  one  of  the  old  sofas.  The  garret  was 
dark,  except  where  the  light  of  the  waning 
moon  filtering  through  the  sheet,  fell  upon 
the  portrait  and  patterned  the  floor  in 
squares  of  silver.  Olivia's  eyes  still  shone 
out  from  the  easel.  In  the  softened,  half- 
ghostly  light  there  seemed  to  struggle  out 
from  their  depths  a  certain  pleading  look, 
as  if  she  needed  help  and  was  appealing  to 
him  for  sympathy.  He  knew  it  was  only 
a  trick  the  moonlight  was  playing  with  his 
colors — lowering  the  reds  and  graying  the 
flesh  tones — that  when  the  morning  came 
all  the  old  joyousness  would  return;  but  it 
depressed  him  all  the  same. 

The  Judge's  words  with  their  cruelty 
and  injustice  still  rankled  in  his  heart. 
The  quixotic  protest,  he  knew,  about  his 
mother's  faded  old  satin  must  have  had 
some  other  basis  than  the  one  of  immod- 

[46] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

esty — an  absurd  position,  as  any  one  could 
see  who  would  examine  the  picture.  Olivia 
could  never  be  anything  but  modest.  Had 
it  really  been  the  gown  that  had  offend 
ed  him?  or  had  he  seen  something  in  his 
wife's  portrait  which  he  had  missed  be 
fore  in  her  face  —  something  of  the  joy 
which  a  freer  and  more  untrammelled  life 
had  given  her,  and  which  had,  therefore, 
aroused  his  jealousy.  He  would  never  for 
give  him  for  the  outburst,  despite  the  apol 
ogy,  nor  would  he  ever  forget  Olivia  cow 
ering,  when  she  listened,  as  if  from  a  blow, 
hugging  little  Phil  to  her  side.  While 
the  Judge's  words  had  cut  deep  into  his  own 
heart  they  had  scorched  Olivia's  like  a 
flame.  He  had  seen  it  in  her  tear-dried 
face  seamed  and  crumpled  like  a  crushed 
rose,  when  without  a  word  to  her  husband 
or  himself,  except  a  simple — "  Good-night, 

[47] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

all,"  she  had  left  the  room  but  an  hour 
before. 

Suddenly  he  raised  his  head  and  listened: 
A  step  was  mounting  the  stairs.  Then  came 
a  voice  from  the  open  door. 

"  Adam,  are  you  in  there?  " 

"  Yes,  Olivia." 

"May  I  come  in?" 

Like  a  wraith  of  mist  afloat  in  the  night 
she  stole  into  the  darkened  room  and  set 
tled  slowly  and  noiselessly  beside  him.  He 
tried  to  struggle  to  his  feet  in  protest,  but 
she  clung  to  him,  her  fingers  clutching  his 
arm,  her  sobs  choking  her. 

"  Don't — don't  go !  I  must  talk  to  you 
— nobody  else  understands — nobody " 

"  But  you  must  not  stay  here!  Think 
what " 

"  No!  Please — please — I  can't  go;  you 
must  listen !  I  couldn't  sleep.  Help  me  ! 

[48] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

Tell  me  what  I  must  do!  Oh,  Adam, 
please — please!  I  shall  die  if  I  have  to 
keep  on  as  I  have  done." 

She  slipped  from  the  low  cushion  and 
lay  crouching  at  his  feet,  her  arms  and  face 
resting  on  his  knees;  her  wonderful  hair, 
like  spun  gold,  falling  about  him,  its  faint 
perfume  stirring  his  senses. 

Then,  with  indrawn,  stifling  sobs  she 
laid  bare  her  innermost  secrets;  all  her 
heartaches,  misunderstandings,  hidden  sor 
rows,  and  last  that  unnamed  pain  which  no 
human  touch  but  his  could  heal.  Only 
once,  as  she  crouched  beside  him,  did 
he  try  to  stop  the  flow  of  her  whispered 
talk;  she  pleading  piteously  while  he 
held  her  from  him,  he  looking  into  her 
eyes  as  if  he  were  afraid  to  read  their 
meaning. 

When  she  had  ended  he  lifted  her  to  her 

[49] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

feet,   smoothed  the  dishevelled  hair  from 
her  face,  and  kissed  her  on  the  forehead : 

"  Go  now,"  he  said  in  a  broken  voice,  as 
he  led  her  to  the  door.  "  Go,  and  let  me 
think  it  over." 

With  the  breaking  of  the  dawn  he  rose 
from  the  lounge  where  he  had  lain  all  night 
with  staring  eyes,  took  the  portrait  from 
the  easel,  held  it  for  a  brief  instant  to  the 
gray  light,  touched  it  reverently  with  his 
lips,  turned  it  to  the  wall,  and  then,  with 
noiseless  steps,  descended  to  his  bedroom. 
Gathering  his  few  belongings  together  he 
crept  downstairs  so  as  to  wake  no  one, 
pushed  open  the  front  door,  crossed  the 
porch  and  made  his  way  to  the  stable, 
where  he  saddled  his  mare.  Then  he  rode 
slowly  past  the  lilacs  and  out  of  the  gate. 

When  he  reached  the  top  of  the  hill  and 

[50] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

looked  back,  the  rising  sun  was  gilding  the 
chimneys  and  quaint  dormers  of  Derwood 
Manor.  Only  the  closed  shutters  of 
Olivia's  room  were  in  shadow. 

"  It's  the  only  way,"  he  said  with  a  sigh, 
and  turned  his  horse's  head  toward  the 
North. 


Ill 

THE  few  weeks  Adam  Gregg  spent  in 
his  father's  home  on  his  return 
from  Derwood  Manor  were  weeks  of  suf 
fering  such  as  he  had  never  known  in  his 
short  career.  No  word  had  come  from 
Olivia,  and  none  had  gone  from  him  in 
return.  He  dared  not  trust  himself  to 
write;  he  made  no  inquiries.  He  made  no 
mention,  even  at  home,  of  his  visit,  except 
to  say  that  he  had  painted  Judge  Colton's 
wife  and  had  then  retraced  his  steps.  It 
was  not  a  matter  to  be  discussed  with  any 
one — not  even  with  his  mother,  to  whom 
he  told  almost  every  happening  of  his  life. 
He  had  seen  a  vision  of  transcendent 

[52] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

beauty  which  had  filled  his  soul.  Then  the 
curtain  had  fallen,  blotting  out  the  light 
and  leaving  him  in  darkness  and  despair. 
What  was  left  was  the  memory  of  a  tear- 
stained  face  and  two  pleading  eyes.  These 
would  haunt  him  all  his  days. 

At  the  end  of  the  year  he  found  himself 
in  London :  Gainsborough,  Romney  and 
Lawrence  beckoned  to  him.  He  must  mas 
ter  their  technique,  study  their  color.  The 
next  year  was  spent  in  Madrid  studying 
Velasquez  and  Goya.  It  was  the  full  brush 
that  enthralled  him  now — the  sweep  and 
directness  of  virile  methods.  Then  he 
wandered  over  to  Granada,  and  so  on 
to  the  coast  and  Barcelona,  and  at  last  to 
Paris. 

When  his  first  salon  picture  was  exhib 
ited  it  could  only  be  properly  seen  when  the 
crowd  opened,  so  great  was  the  throng 

[53] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

about  it.  It  was  called  "  A  Memory,"  and 
showed  the  figure  of  a  young  girl  standing 
in  the  sunlight  with  wreaths  of  blossoms 
arched  above  her  head.  On  her  golden 
hair  was  a  wide  hat  which  half  shaded  her 
face;  one  beautiful  arm,  exquisitely  mod 
elled  and  painted,  rested  on  the  neck  of  a 
black  horse.  A  marvellous  scheme  of  color, 
the  critics  said,  the  blossoms  and  flesh  tones 
being  wonderfully  managed.  No  one 
knew  the  model — English,  some  sug 
gested;  others  concluded  that  it  was  the 
portrait  of  some  lady  of  the  court  in  a  cos 
tume  of  the  thirties. 

The  day  after  the  opening  of  the  salon 
Clairin  called  and  left  his  card,  and  the  day 
following  Fortuny  mounted  the  stairs  to 
shake  his  hand,  although  he  had  never  met 
Gregg  before.  When,  later  on,  Honorable 
Mention  was  awarded  him  by  the  jury, 

[54] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

Boisseau,  the  art  dealer,  rang  his  bell  and 
at  once  began  to  inquire  about  the  price  of 
portraits.  Madame  X.  and  the  Countess 
M.  had  been  captivated,  he  said,  by  the 
"  Memory,"  and  wanted  sittings.  If  the 
commissions  were  sufficient  the  dealer  could 
arrange  for  very  many  orders,  not  only  for 
many  women  of  fashion,  but  of  members  of 
the  Government. 

The  following  year  his  portrait  of  Baron 
Chevrail  received  the  Gold  Medal  and  he 
himself  a  red  ribbon,  and  a  few  months 
later  his  picture  of  "  Columbus  before  the 
Council "  took  the  highest  honors  at 
Genoa,  and  was  bought  by  the  Govern 
ment. 

During  almost  all  the  years  of  his  tri 
umphal  progress  he  lived  alone.  So  seldom 
was  he  seen  outside  of  his  studio  that  many 
of  his  brother  painters  were  convinced  that 

[55] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

he  never  spent  more  than  a  few  days  at  a 
time  in  Paris.  They  would  knock,  and 
knock  again,  only  to  be  told  by  the  con 
cierge  that  monsieur  was  out,  or  in  London, 
or  on  the  Riviera.  His  studio  in  London 
and  his  occasional  visits  to  Vienna,  where 
he  shared  Makart's  atelier  while  painting 
a  portrait  of  one  of  the  Austrian  grand 
dukes,  helped  in  this  delusion.  The  truth 
was  that  he  had  no  thought  for  things  out 
side  of  his  art.  The  rewards  of  fame  and 
money  never  appealed  to  him.  What  en 
thralled  him  was  his  love  of  color,  of  har 
mony,  of  the  mastering  of  subtleties  in 
composition  and  mass.  That  the  public 
approved  of  his  efforts,  and  that  juries 
awarded  him  honors,  caused  him  no  thrill 
of  exultation.  He  knew  how  far  short  his 
brush  had  come.  He  was  glad  they  liked 
the  picture.  Next  time  he  would  do  better. 
[56] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

These  triumphs  ruffled  his  surface — as  a 
passing  wind  ruffles  a  deep  pool. 

As  he  grew  in  years  there  came  a  certain 
dignity  of  carriage,  a  certain  poise  of  bear 
ing.  The  old-time  courtliness  of  manner 
was  strengthened;  but  the  sweetness  of  na 
ture  was  still  the  same — a  nature  that  won 
for  him  friends  among  the  best  about  him. 
Not  many — only  three  or  four  who  had  the 
privilege  of  knocking  with  three  light  taps 
and  one  loud  one  at  his  door,  a  signal  to 
which  he  always  responded — but  friends 
whose  proudest  boast  was  their  intimacy 
with  Adam  Gregg. 

The  women  smiled  at  him  behind  their 
lorgnons  as  they  passed  him  riding  in  the 
Bois,  for  he  had  never  given  up  this  form 
of  out-door  exercise,  his  erect  military  fig 
ure,  fine  head  and  upturned  mustache  lend 
ing  him  a  distinction  which  attracted  at- 

[57] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

tention  at  once;  but  he  seldom  did  more 
than  return  their  salutations.  Sometimes 
he  would  accept  an  invitation  to  dinner,  but 
only  on  rare  occasions.  When  he  did  it 
was  invariably  heralded  in  advance  that 
"  Gregg  was  coming,"  a  fact  which  always 
decided  uncertain  guests  to  say  "  Yes  "  to 
their  hostess's  invitation. 

And  yet  he  was  not  a  recluse  in  the  ac 
cepted  sense  of  the  word,  nor  did  he  lead  a 
sad  life.  He  only  preferred  to  enjoy  it 
alone,  or  with  one  or  two  men  who  under 
stood  him. 

While  casual  acquaintances — especially 
those  in  carriages — were  denied  access 
when  he  was  absorbed  on  some  work  of 
importance,  the  younger  painters — those 
who  were  struggling  up  the  ladder — were 
always  welcome.  For  these  the  concierge 
was  given  special  instructions.  Then 

[58] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

everything  would  be  laid  aside;  their 
sketches  gone  over  and  their  points  settled, 
no  matter  how  long  it  took  or  how  many 
hours  of  his  precious  time  were  given  to 
their  service.  Many  of  these  lads — not 
alone  his  own  countrymen,  but  many  who 
could  not  speak  his  language — often  found 
a  crisp,  clean  bank-note  in  their  hands 
when  the  painter's  fingers  pressed  their  own 
in  parting.  Of  only  one  thing  was  he  in 
tolerant,  and  that  was  sham.  The  insin 
cere,  the  presuming  and  the  fraudulent 
always  irritated  him;  so  did  the  slightest 
betrayal  of  a  trust.  Then  his  dark-brown 
eyes  would  flash,  his  shoulders  straighten, 
and  there  would  roll  from  his  lips  a  de 
nunciation  which  those  who  heard  never 
forgot — an  outburst  all  the  more  startling 
because  coming  from  one  of  so  gentle  and 
equable  a  temperament. 

[59] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

During  all  the  years  of  his  exile  no  word 
had  come  from  Olivia.  He  had  once  seen 
Judge  Colton's  name  in  one  of  the  Paris 
papers  in  connection  with  a  railroad  case 
in  which  some  French  investors  were  inter 
ested,  but  nothing  more  had  met  his  eye. 

Had  he  been  of  a  different  temperament 
he  would  have  forgotten  her  and  that  night 
in  the  improvised  studio,  but  he  was  not 
constituted  to  forget.  He  was  constituted 
to  remember,  and  to  remember  with  all  his 
soul.  Every  day  of  his  life  he  had  missed 
her;  never  was  there  a  night  that  she  was 
not  in  his  thoughts  before  he  dropped  to 
sleep.  What  would  have  been  his  career 
had  fate  brought  them  together  before  the 
blight  fell  upon  her?  What  intimacies, 
what  enjoyment,  what  ideals  nurtured  and 
made  real.  And  the  companionship,  the 
instant  sympathy,  the  sureness  of  an  echo 

[60] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

in  her  heart,  no  matter  how  low  and  soft 
his  whisper!  These  thoughts  were  never 
absent  from  his  mind. 

Moreover,  his  life  had  been  one  of 
standards :  the  greatest  painter,  the  greatest 
picture,  the  finest  piece  of  bronze.  It  was 
so  when  he  looked  over  curios  at  the  deal 
er's  :  it  was  the  choicest  of  its  kind  that  he 
must  have;  anything  of  trifling  value, 
or  anything  commonplace — he  ignored. 
Olivia  had  also  fixed  for  him  a  standard. 
Compared  to  her,  all  other  women  were 
trite  and  incomplete.  No  matter  how  beau 
tiful  they  might  be,  a  certain  simplicity  of 
manner  was  lacking,  or  the  coloring  was 
bad,  or  the  curve  of  the  neck  ungraceful. 
All  of  these  perfections,  and  countless 
more,  made  up  Olivia's  personality,  and 
unless  the  woman  before  him  possessed 
these  several  charms  she  failed  to  interest 
[61] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

him.  The  inspection  over  and  the  mental 
comparison  at  an  end,  a  straightening  of 
the  shoulders  and  a  knitting  of  the  brow 
would  follow,  ending  in  a  far-away  look  in 
his  brown  eyes  and  an  unchecked  sigh — 
as  if  the  very  hopelessness  of  the  compari 
son  brought  with  it  a  certain  pain.  As  to 
much  of  the  life  of  the  Quartier  about  him, 
he  shrank  from  it  as  he  would  from  a  pes 
tilence.  Certain  men  never  crossed  his 
threshold — never  dared. 

One  morning  there  came  to  him  the 
crowning  honor  of  his  career.  A  new  hotel 
de  ville  was  about  to  be  erected  in  a  neigh 
boring  city,  and  the  authorities  had  selected 
him  to  paint  the  great  panel  at  the  right  of 
the  main  entrance.  As  he  threw  the  letter 
containing  the  proposition  on  his  desk  and 
leaned  back  in  his  chair  a  smile  of  supreme 
satisfaction  lighted  up  his  face.  He  could 

[62] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

now  carry  out  a  scheme  of  color  and  mass 
ing  of  figures  which  had  been  in  his  mind 
for  years,  but  which  had  heretofore  been 
impossible  owing  to  the  limited  area  cov 
ered  by  the  canvases  of  his  former  orders. 
This  space  would  give  him  all  the  room  he 
needed.  The  subject  was  to  be  an  incident 
in  the  life  of  Rochambeau,  just  before  the 
siege  of  Yorktown.  Gregg  had  been  se 
lected  on  account  of  his  nationality.  Every 
latitude  was  given  him,  and  the  treatment 
was  to  be  distinctly  his  own. 

It  was  while  searching  about  the  streets 
and  cafes  of  Paris  for  types  to  be  used  in  the 
preliminary  sketches  for  this,  the  supreme 
work  so  far  of  his  life,  that  he  took  a  seat 
one  afternoon  in  the  early  autumn  at  a  table 
outside  one  of  the  cheap  cafes  along  the 
Seine.  He  could  study  the  faces  of  those 
passing,  from  a  position  of  this  kind.  In 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

his  coming  picture  there  must  necessarily 
be  depicted  a  group  of  the  great  French 
man's  followers,  and  a  certain  differentia 
tion  of  feature  would  be  necessary.  On 
this  afternoon,  then,  he  had  taken  his 
sketch-book  from  his  breast  pocket  and  was 
about  to  make  a  memorandum  of  some 
type  that  had  just  attracted  him,  when  a 
young  man  in  a  student's  cap  twisted  his 
head  to  get  a  closer  view  of  the  work  of 
Gregg's  pencil. 

An  intrusion  of  this  kind  from  any  one 
but  a  student  would  have  been  instantly  re 
sented  by  Adam.  Not  so,  however,  with 
the  young  fellow  at  his  elbow;  these  were 
his  wards,  no  matter  where  he  met  them. 

"  Come  closer,  my  boy,"  said  Gregg  in 
a  low  voice.  "  You  belong  to  the  Quartier, 
do  you  not?  " 

"  Yes." 

[64] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

"  Are  you  English?" 

"  No,  an  American.  I  am  from  Mary 
land." 

"  From  Maryland,  you  say !  "  exclaimed 
Adam  with  a  sudden  start,  closing  his 
sketch-book  and  slipping  it  into  his  pocket. 
The  name  always  brought  with  it  a  certain 
rush  of  blood  to  his  cheek — why,  he  could 
never  tell.  "  How  long  have  you  been  in 
Paris,  my  lad?  "  He  had  moved  back  now 
so  that  the  stranger  could  find  a  seat  beside 
him. 

"  Only  a  few  months,  sir.  I  was  in 
London  for  a  time  and  then  came  over 
here.  I'm  working  at  Julian's " — and 
the  young  fellow  squeezed  himself  into 
the  chair  Adam  had  pulled  out  for 
him. 

"  Are  you  from  one  of  the  cities?  " 

"  No,  from  Montgomery  County,  sir." 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

"  That's  next  to  Frederick,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

Both  question  and  answer  set  his  pulses 
to  beating.  Instantly  there  rushed  into  his 
mind  the  picture  he  never  forgot — the 
figure  in  white  standing  at  the  head  of 
the  porch  steps.  He  recalled  the  long  curl 
that  lay  next  her  throat,  the  light  In  her 
eyes,  the  warm  pressure  of  her  hand;  the 
wealth  of  bursting  blossoms,  their  perfume 
filling  the  spring  air.  How  many  years 
had  passed  since  he  had  ridden  through 
those  Maryland  orchards ! 

For  some  minutes  Adam  sat  perfectly 
still,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  line  of  trees 
fringing  the  parapet  of  the  Seine.  The 
boy  kept  silent;  it  was  for  the  older  man 
to  speak  first  again.  Soon  an  overwhelm 
ing,  irresistible  desire  to  break  through  the 
reserve  of  years  surged  over  the  painter. 
[66] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

He  could  ask  this  lad  questions  he  had 
never  asked  any  one  before — not  that  he 
had  ever  had  an  opportunity,  for  he  had 
seen  no  one  who  knew,  and  he  had  de 
termined  never  to  write.  Here  was  his 
chance. 

"  Perhaps  you  can  tell  me  about  some 
of  the  old  residents.  I  visited  your  part 
of  the  State  many  years  ago — in  the  spring, 
I  remember — and  met  a  few  of  the  people. 
What  has  become  of  Major  Dorsey,  Mr. 
Talbot  and  " — there  was  a  slight  pause — 
"  and  Judge  Colton?" 

"  I  don't  know,  sir.  I've  heard  my 
father  speak  of  them,  but  I  never  saw  any 
of  them  except  Judge  Colton.  He  used  to 
stay  at  our  house  when  he  held  court.  He 
lived  up  in  Frederick  County — a  thin,  sol 
emn-looking  man,  with  white  hair.  He's 
dead  now." 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

Gregg's  fingers  tightened  convulsively. 
"  Judge  Colton  dead!  Are  you  sure?  " 

"  Yes — died  the  week  I  left  home. 
Father  went  up  to  his  funeral.  He  rode 
in  the  carnage  with  Mrs.  Colton,  he  told 
us  when  he  came  home.  They're  pretty 
poor  up  there,  too;  the  Judge  lost  all  his 
money,  I  heard." 

Gregg  paid  for  his  coffee,  rose  from  his 
seat,  shook  hands  with  the  boy,  gave  him 
his  name  and  address  in  case  he  ever 
wanted  advice  or  help  and  continued  his 
walk  under  the  trees  overlooking  the  river. 
The  news  had  come  to  him  out  of  the  sky, 
and  in  a  way  that  partook  almost  of  the 
supernatural.  There  was  no  doubt  in  his 
mind  of  the  truth.  The  boy's  Southern 
accent  and  his  description  of  the  man  who 
ten  years  before  had  denounced  Olivia  and 
himself,  was  confirmation  enough. 
[68] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

As  he  forged  along,  elbowing  his  way 
among  the  throng  that  crowded  the  side 
walk,  the  scene  in  the  garret  the  night  he 
parted  from  Olivia  took  possession  of  him 
— the  one  scene  in  all  their  past  relation 
on  which  he  never  allowed  himself  to  dwell. 
He  recalled  the  tones  of  her  voice,  the  out 
line  of  her  figure  crouching  at  his  knees,  the 
squares  of  moonlight  illumining  the  floor 
and  the  room,  and  now  once  again  he  lis 
tened  to  the  story  she  had  poured  into  his 
ears  that  fatal  night. 

By  the  time  he  had  reached  his  studio 
his  mind  was  made  up.  Olivia  was  in 
trouble,  perhaps  in  want.  In  the  conditions 
about  her  she  must  be  threatened  by  many 
dangers  and  must  suffer  many  privations. 
The  old  ungovernable  longing  again 
gripped  him,  and  with  renewed  force. 

What  was  there   in   life  but  love?  he 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

said  to  himself.  What  else  counted?  What 
were  his  triumphs,  his  honors,  his  posi 
tion  among  his  brother  painters,  his  wel 
come  among  his  equals,  compared  to  the 
love  of  this  woman  ?  What  happiness  had 
they  brought  him?  Then  his  mind  re 
verted  to  his  past  life.  How  hungry  had 
he  been  for  the  touch  of  a  hand,  the  caress 
of  a  cheek,  the  whispered  talk  into  respon 
sive  ears.  No !  there  was  nothing — noth 
ing  but  love !  Everything  else  was  but  the 
ashes  of  a  bitter  fruit. 

He  must  see  Olivia,  and  at  once;  the 
long  wait  was  over  now.  What  her  atti 
tude  of  mind  might  be  made  no  differ 
ence,  or  what  her  feeling  toward  him  for 
deserting  her  on  that  terrible  night.  To 
day  she  was  unprotected,  perhaps  in  want. 
To  help  her  was  a  matter  of  honor. 

With  these  thoughts  crowding  out  every 

[70] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

other,  and  with  the  impetus  of  the  resolve 
hot  upon  him,  he  opened  his  portfolio  and 
wrote  a  note,  informing  the  committee  in 
charge  of  the  Rochambeau  picture  of  his 
sudden  departure  for  America  and  the  con 
sequent  impossibility  of  executing  the  com 
mission  with  which  they  had  honored  him. 
Three  days  later,  with  a  new  joy  surging 
through  his  veins,  he  set  sail  for  home. 


[71] 


IV 

AGAIN  Adam  drew  rein  and  looked 
over  the  brown  hills  of  Maryland. 
No  wealth  of  bursting  blossoms  greeted 
him;  the  trees  were  bare  of  leaves,  their 
naked  branches  shivering  in  the  keen  No 
vember  wind;  in  the  dips  of  the  uneven 
roads  the  water  lay  in  pools ;  above  hung  a 
dull,  gray  sky  telling  of  the  coming  cold; 
long  lines  of  crows  were  flying  southward, 
while  here  and  there  a  deserted  cabin 
showed  the  havoc  the  years  of  war  had 
wrought — a  havoc  which  had  spared 
neither  friend  nor  foe. 

None  of  these  things  disturbed  Adam 
nor  checked  the  flow  of  his  spirits.     The 

[72] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

cold  would  not  reach  his  heart ;  there  was  a 
welcome  ahead — of  eye  and  hand  and  heart. 
No  word  of  him  had  reached  her  ears.  If 
she  had  forgiven  him,  thought  of  him  at 
all,  it  was  as  across  the  sea  in  some  un 
known  land.  Doubtless  she  still  believed 
he  had  forgotten  her  and  their  early  days. 
This  would  make  the  surprise  he  held  in 
store  for  her  all  the  more  joyous. 

As  he  neared  the  brow  of  the  hill  he  be 
gan  to  con  over  in  his  mind  the  exact  words 
he  would  use  when  he  was  ushered  into  her 
presence.  He  would  pretend  at  first  to  be 
a  wayfarer  and  ask  for  a  night's  lodging, 
or,  perhaps,  it  might  be  best  to  inquire  for 
young  Phil,  who  must  now  be  a  great  strap 
ping  lad.  Then  be  began  thinking  out 
other  surprises.  Of  course  she  would  know 
him — know  him  before  he  opened  his  lips. 
How  foolish,  then,  the  pretence  of  deceiv- 

[73] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

ing  her.  What  was  really  more  important 
was  the  way  in  which  he  would  enter  the 
house;  some  care  must  therefore  be  exer 
cised.  If  he  should  approach  by  the  rear 
and  meet  either  Dinah  or  old  Bundy,  who 
must  still  be  alive,  of  course  they  would 
recognize  him  at  once  before  he  could  cau 
tion  them,  the  back  door  being  near  the  old 
kitchen.  The  best  way  would  be  to  signal 
Bundy  and  call  to  him  before  the  old  man 
could  fully  identify  him.  He  could  then 
open  the  door  softly  and  step  in  front  of 
her. 

Perhaps  another  good  way  would  be  to 
leave  his  horse  in  the  stable,  and  wait  until 
it  grew  quite  dark — the  twilight  was  al 
ready  gathering — watch  the  lights  being 
lit,  and  in  this  way  discover  in  which  room 
she  was  sitting.  Then  he  would  creep  un 
der  the  window  and  sing  the  old  song  they 

[74] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

had  listened  to  so  often  together,  "  Weep 
no  mo',  me  lady."  She  would  know  then 
who  had  come  all  these  miles  to  see  her ! 

Soon  his  mind  ran  riot  over  the  gown 
she  would  wear;  how  her  hair  would  be 
dressed — would  she  still  be  the  same  slight, 
graceful  woman,  or  had  the  years  left  their 
mark  upon  her?  The  eyes  would  be  the 
same,  he  knew,  and  the  lips  and  dazzling 
teeth;  and  she  would  greet  him  with  that 
old  fearless  look  in  her  face — courage  and 
gentleness  combined — but  would  there  be 
any  lines  about  the  dear  mouth  and  under 
the  eyes?  If  so  would  she  be  willing  to  let 
him  smooth  them  out  ?  She  was  free  now ! 
Both  were — free  to  come  and  go  without 
restraint.  What  would  he  not  do  for  her ! 
All  her  future  and  his  own  would  hereafter 
be  linked  together.  His  life,  his  triumphs, 
his  honors — everything  would  be  hers ! 

[75] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

As  these  thoughts  filled  his  mind  some 
thing  of  the  spring  and  buoyancy  of  his 
earlier  youth  came  back  to  him.  He  could 
hardly  restrain  himself  from  shouting  out 
in  glee  as  he  had  done  in  the  old  days  when 
they  had  scampered  through  the  woods  to 
gether.  With  each  familiar  spot  his  en 
thusiasm  increased.  There  was  the  brook 
where  they  fished  that  morning  for  gud 
geons,  when  little  Phil  came  so  near  falling 
into  the  water;  and  there  was  the  turn  of 
the  road  that  led  to  the  school-house;  and 
the  little  cabin  near  the  spring.  It  would 
not  be  long  now  before  he  looked  into  her 
eyes  1 

The  few  friends  who  knew  him  as  a 
grave  and  thoughtful  man  of  purpose  and 
achievement  would  never  have  recognized 
him  could  they  have  watched  his  face  as  he 
sat  astride  his  horse,  his  whole  body  quiver- 
[76] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

ing  with  expectancy,  the  hope  that  had 
lain  dormant  so  long  awake  once  more. 
Now  it  was  his  turn  to  be  glad. 

He  had  reached  the  hill.  Another  mo 
ment  and  he  would  pass  the  mass  of  ever 
greens  to  the  left,  and  then  the  quaint  dor 
mer-windows  and  chimneys  of  Derwood 
Manor  would  greet  him. 

At  the  bend  of  the  road,  on  the  very 
verge  of  the  hill,  he  checked  his  horse  so 
suddenly  as  almost  to  throw  him  back  on 
his  haunches.  A  sudden  chill  seized  him, 
followed  by  a  rush  that  sent  the  blood  tin 
gling  to  the  roots  of  his  hair.  Then  he 
stood  up  in  his  stirrups  as  if  to  see  the 
better. 

Below,  against  the  background  of  rag 
ged  trees,  stood  two  gaunt  chimneys.  All 
about  was  blackened  grass  and  half-burned 
timbers. 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

Derwood  Manor  had  been  burned  to  the 
ground ! 

Staggered  by  the  sight,  almost  reeling 
from  the  saddle,  he  drove  the  spurs  into 
his  horse,  dashed  through  the  ruined  gate, 
and  drew  rein  at  the  one  unburned  cabin.  A 
young  negro  woman  stood  in  the  door. 

For  an  instant  he  could  hardly  trust  him 
self  to  speak. 

"  I  am  Mr.  Gregg,"  he  said  in  a  choking 
voice,  "  and  was  here  ten  years  ago.  When 
did  this  happen?  "  and  he  pointed  to  the 
blackened  ruins.  He  had  thrown  himself 
from  his  saddle  and  stood  looking  into  her 
face,  the  bridle  in  his  hand. 

"In  de  summer  time — las'  August,  I 
think." 

"  Where's  your  mistress  ?  Was  she  here 
when  the  house  was  burned?  " 

"  I  ain't  got  no  mist'ess — not  now.    Oh, 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

you  mean  de  young  mist'ess  what  used  to 
lib  here?  Aunt  Dinah  cooked  for  'em — 
she  b'longed  to  'em." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  urged  Gregg. 

"  She's  daid!" 

"  My  God !  Not  when  the  house  was 
burned?" 

"  No,  she  warn't  here.  She  was  down  in 
Baltimo' — she  went  dar  after  de  Jedge 
died.  But  she's  daid,  fo'  sho',  'cause  Aunt 
Dinah  was  wid  her,  and  she  tol'  me." 

Adam  dropped  upon  a  bench  outside  the 
door  of  the  cabin  and  began  passing  his 
hand  nervously  over  his  forehead  as  if  he 
would  relieve  a  pain  he  could  not  locate. 
A  cold  sweat  stood  on  his  brow;  his  knees 
shook. 

The  woman  kept  her  eyes  on  him.  Such 
incidents  were  not  uncommon.  Almost 
every  day  strangers  on  their  way  South 

[79] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

had  passed  her  cabin,  looking  for  friends 
they  would  never  see  again — a  woman  for 
her  husband;  a  mother  for  her  son;  a  fa 
ther  for  his  children.  Unknown  graves 
and  burned  homes  could  be  found  all  the 
way  to  the  Potomac  and  beyond.  This 
strong  man  who  seemed  to  be  an  officer, 
was  like  all  the  others. 

For  some  minutes  Adam  sat  with  his 
head  in  his  hands;  his  elbows  on  his  knees, 
the  bridle  still  hooked  over  his  wrist.  Hot 
tears  trickled  between  his  closed  fingers  and 
dropped  into  the  dust  at  his  feet.  Then  he 
raised  his  head,  and  with  a  strong  effort 
pulled  himself  together. 

"  And  the  little  boy — or  rather  the  son 
— he  must  be  grown  now.  Philip  was  his 
name — what  has  become  of  him?  "  He 
had  regained  something  of  his  old  poise— 
his  voice  and  manner  showed  it. 

[so] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

"  I  ain't  never  yeard  what  'come  'o  him. 
Went  in  de  army,  I  reck'n.  Daid,  I  spec' 
— mos'  ev'ybody's  daid  dat  was  here  when 
I  growed  up." 

Adam  turned  his  head  and  looked  once 
more  at  the  blackened  ruins.  What  fur 
ther  story  was  yet  to  come  from  their 
ashes? 

"  One  more  question,  please.  Were  you 
here  when  the  fire  came?  " 

"  Yes,  suh,  me  and  my  husban'  was  both 
here.  He  ain't  home  to-day.  We  was 
takin'  care  of  de  place  when  it  ketched  fire 
— dat's  how  we  come  to  save  dis  cabin. 
Dere  warn't  no  water  and  nobody  to  help, 
and  dis  was  all  we  could  do." 

Again  Adam  bowed  his  head.  Was 
there  nothing  left? — nothing  to  recall  even 
her  smile?  Then  slowly,  as  if  he  feared 
the  result: 

[81] 


AN    OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

"  Was  anything  saved — any  furniture, 
or — pictures — or " 

"  Nothin'  but  dem  two  chairs  inside  dar 
— and  dat  bench  what  you's  settin'  on. 
Dey  was  on  de  lawn  and  dat's  how  we  come 
to  git  'em." 

For  some  minutes  Adam  sat  looking  into 
the  ground  at  his  feet,  his  eyes  blurred  with 
tears. 

"  Thank  you,"  was  all  he  said. 

And  once  more  he  turned  his  horse's 
head  toward  the  North. 


[82] 


A  THIN,  shabby  little  man,  with 
stooping  shoulders,  hooked  nose 
and  velvet  tread,  stood  before  the  card 
rack  in  the  lower  corridor  of  the  old  studio 
building  on  Tenth  Street.  He  was  scan 
ning  the  names,  beginning  at  the  top  floor 
and  going  down  to  the  basement.  Sud 
denly  his  eyes  glistened : 

"  Second  floor,"  he  whispered  to  him 
self.  "Yes,  of  course;  I  knew  it  all  the 
time — second  floor,"  and  "  second  floor  " 
he  kept  repeating  as  he  helped  his  small 
body  up  the  steps  by  means  of  the  hand 
rail. 

The  little  man  earned  his  living  by  ob- 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

taining  orders  for  portraits  which  he  turned 
over  to  the  several  painters,  fitting  the  price 
to  their  reputations,  and  by  hunting  up 
undoubted  old  masters,  rare  porcelains, 
curios  and  miniatures  for  collectors.  He 
was  reasonably  honest,  and  his  patrons 
followed  his  advice  whenever  it  was 
backed  by  somebody  they  knew.  He  was 
also  cunning — softly,  persuasively  cunning 
— with  all  the  patience  and  philosophy  of 
his  race. 

On  this  morning  the  little  man  had  a  Gil 
bert  Stuart  for  sale,  and  what  was  more 
to  the  point  he  had  a  customer  for  the  mas 
terpiece  :  Morion,  the  collector,  of  unlim 
ited  means  and  limited  wall  space,  would 
buy  it  provided  Adam  Gregg,  the  distin 
guished  portrait  painter,  Member  of  the 
International  Jury,  Commander  of  the 
Legion  of  Honor,  Hors  Concours  in  Paris 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

and  Munich,  etc.,  etc.,  would  pronounce  it 
genuine. 

The  distinguished  painter  never  hesi 
tated  to  give  his  services  in  settling  such 
matters.  He  delighted  in  doing  it.  Just 
as  he  always  delighted  in  criticising  the 
work  of  any  young  student  who  came  to 
him  for  counsel — a  habit  he  had  learned 
in  his  life  abroad — and  always  with  a  hand 
on  the  boy's  shoulder  and  a  twinkle  in  his 
brown  eyes  that  robbed  his  words  of  any 
sting. 

When  dealers  sought  his  help  he  was  not 
so  gracious.  He  disliked  dealers — another 
of  his  foreign  prejudices.  Tender-hearted 
as  he  was  he  generally  exploded  with  dy 
namic  force — and  he  could  explode  when 
anything  stirred  him — whenever  a  dealer 
attempted  to  make  him  a  party  to  anything 
that  looked  like  fraud.  He  had  once  cut 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

an  assumed  Corot  into  ribbons  with  his 
pocket-knife — and  this  since  he  had  been 
home  in  New  York,  fifteen  years  now — 
and  had  then  handed  the  strips  back  to  the 
dealer  with  the  remark : 

"  Down  in  the  Treasury  they  brand 
counterfeits  with  a  die ;  I  do  it  with  a  knife. 
Send  me  the  bill." 

The  little  man,  with  the  cunning  of  his 
race,  knew  this  peculiarity,  and  he  also 
knew  that  ten  chances  to  one  the  great 
painter  would  receive  him  with  a  frigid 
look,  and  perhaps  bow  him  out  of  the  door. 
So  he  had  studied  out  and  arranged  a  lit 
tle  game.  Only  the  day  before  he  had  ob 
tained  an  order  for  a  portrait  to  be  painted 
by  the  best  man-painter  of  his  time.  The 
picture  was  to  be  full  length  and  to  hang 
in  the  directors'  room  of  a  great  corpora 
tion.  This  order  he  had  in  his  pocket  in 
[86] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

writing,  -signed  by  the  secretary  of  the 
board.  Confirmations  were  sometimes 
valuable. 

As  the  little  man's  body  neared  the  great 
painter's  door  a  certain  pleasurable  sensa 
tion  trickled  through  him.  To  catch  a 
painter  on  a  hook  baited  with  an  order,  and 
then  catch  a  great  collector  like  Morion  on 
another  hook  baited  with  a  painter,  was  ad 
mirable  fishing. 

With  these  thoughts  in  his  mind  he 
rapped  timidly  on  Adam  Gregg's  door,  and 
was  answered  by  a  strong,  cheery  voice 
calling : 

"Come  in !" 

The  door  swung  back,  the  velvet  cur 
tains  parted,  and  the  little  man  made  a 
step  into  the  great  painter's  spacious  studio. 

"  Oh,  I  have  such  a  fine  sitter  for  you !  " 
he  whispered,  with  his  hand  still  grasping 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

the  curtain.  "  Such  a  distinguished-look 
ing  man  he  is — like  a  pope — like  a  doge. 
It  will  make  a  great  Franz  Hal;  such  a 
big  spot  of  white  hair  and  black  coat 
and  red  face.  He's  coming  to-morrow 
and " 

"Who  is  coming  to-morrow?"  asked 
Gregg.  His  tone  would  have  swamped 
any  other  man.  He  had  recognized  the 
dealer  with  a  simple  "  Good  morning," 
and  had  kept  his  place  before  his  easel,  the 
overhead  light  falling  on  his  upturned  mus 
tache  and  crisp  gray  hair. 

The  little  man  rubbed  his  soft,  flabby 
hands  together,  and  tiptoed  to  where 
Gregg  stood  as  noiseless  as  a  detective  ap 
proaching  a  burglar. 

"  The  big  banker,"  he  whispered. 
"  Did  you  not  get  my  letter?  The  price  is 
no  object.  I  can  show  you  the  order."  He 
[88] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

had  reached  the  easel  now  and  was  stand 
ing  with  bent  head,  an  unctuous  smile  play 
ing  about  his  lips. 

"  No,  I  don't  want  to  see  it,"  remarked 
Gregg,  squeezing  a  tube  on  his  pallette. 
"  I  can't  reach  it  for  some  time,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  I  have  told  them  so,  but  the 
young  gentleman  wants  to  have  the  entry 
made  on  the  minutes  and  have  the  money 
appropriated.  I  had  great  confidence,  you 
see,  in  your  goodness,"  and  the  little  man 
touched  his  forehead  with  one  skinny  finger 
and  bowed  obsequiously. 

"  I  thought  you  said  he  had  white  hair." 

"  So  he  has.  The  portrait  is  to  hang  up 
in  the  directors'  room  of  one  of  the  big 
copper  companies.  The  young  gentleman 
is  a  member  of  the  banking  firm  that  is  to 
pay  for  the  picture,  and  is  quite  a  young 
man.  He  buys  little  curios  of  me  now  and 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

then,  and  he  asked  me  whom  I  would  rec 
ommend  to  paint  the  director's  portrait, 
and,  of  course,  there  is  but  one  painter — " 
and  the  dealer  bowed  to  the  floor.  "  He's 
coming  to-morrow  afternoon  at  four 
o'clock  and  will  stay  but  a  moment,  for 
he's  a  very  busy  man.  You  will,  I  know, 
receive  him." 

Gregg  made  no  reply.  Rich  directors 
did  not  appeal  to  him ;  they  were  generally 
flabby  and  well  fed  and  out  of  drawing.  If 
this  one  had  some  color  in  him — and  the 
dealer  knew — some  of  the  sort  of  vigor 
and  snap  that  would  have  appealed  to 
Franz  Hal,  the  case  might  be  different. 
The  little  man  waited  a  moment,  saw  that 
Gregg  was  absorbed  in  some  brush  stroke, 
and  stepped  back  a  pace  or  two.  Better 
wait  until  the  master's  mind  was  free. 
Then  again  he  could  sweep  his  eyes  around 

[90] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

the  interior  without  being  detected — there 
was  no  telling  what  might  happen:  some 
day  there  might  be  a  sale,  and  then  it  would 
be  just  as  well  to  know  where  things  like 
these  could  be  found.  Again  he  tiptoed 
across  the  spacious  room,  stopping  to  gaze 
at  the  rich  tapestries  lining  the  walls,  ex 
amining  with  eye-glass  held  close  the  gold 
snuffboxes  and  rare  bits  of  Sevres  and 
Dresden  on  the  shelves  of  the  cabinet, 
and  testing  with  his  nervous  fingers  the 
quality  of  the  rich  Utrecht  velvet  screen 
ing  the  door  of  an  adjoining  room. 

Gregg  kept  at  work,  his  square,  strong 
shoulders,  well-knit  back  and  straight  limbs 
— a  fulfilment  of  the  promise  of  his  youth 
— in  silhouette  against  the  glare  of  the 
overhead  light,  its  rays  silvering  his  iron- 
gray  hair  and  the  tips  of  his  upturned 
mustache. 

[90 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

The  tour  of  the  room  complete,  the  little 
man  again  bowed  to  the  floor  and  said  in 
his  softest  voice : 

44  And  you  will  receive  him  at  four 
o'clock?" 

44  Yes,  at  four  o'clock,"  answered  Gregg, 
his  eyes  still  on  the  canvas. 

Again  the  little  man's  head  bent  low  as 
he  backed  from  the  room.  There  was  no 
need  of  further  talk.  What  Adam  Gregg 
meant  he  said,  and  what  he  said  he  meant. 
As  he  reached  the  velvet  curtain  through 
which  he  had  entered,  he  stopped. 

44  And  now  will  you  do  something  for 
me?" 

Gregg  lifted  his  chin  with  the  movement 
of  a  big  mastiff  throwing  up  his  head  when 
he  scents  danger.  u  I  was  waiting  for  that ; 
then  there  is  a  string  to  it?  "  he  laughed. 

The  little  man  reddened  to  his  eyebrows. 

[92] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

The  fish  had  not  only  seen  the  hook  under 
the  bait,  but  knew  who  held  the  line. 

"  No,  only  that  you  come  with  me  to 
Schenck's  to  see  a  portrait  by  Gilbert  Stu 
art/7  he  pleaded.  "  I  quite  forgot — it  is 
not  often  I  do  forget;  I  must  be  getting  old. 
It's  to  be  sold  to-morrow;  Mr.  Morion  will 
buy  it  if  you  approve;  he  said  so.  I'm  just 
from  his  house." 

"  I  have  a  sitter  at  three." 

'  Yes,  I  know,  but  you  always  have  a 
sitter.  You  must  come — it  means  some 
thing  to  me.  I'll  go  and  get  a  cab.  It  will 
not  take  half  an  hour.  It  is  such  a  beauti 
ful  Stuart.  There's  no  doubt  about  it,  not 
the  slightest;  only  you  know  Mr.  Morion, 
he's  very  exacting.  He  says,  '  If  Mr. 
Gregg  approves  I  will  buy  it.'  These  were 
his  very  words." 

Gregg  laid  down   his  brushes.     Little 

[93] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

men  like  the  one  before  him  wasted  his  time 
and  irritated  him.  It  was  always  this  way 
— some  underhand  business.  Then  the  bet 
ter  side  of  him  triumphed. 

"  All  right!  "  he  cried,  the  old  sympa 
thetic  tone  ringing  out  once  more  in  his 
voice.  "  Never  mind  about  the  cab ;  I  need 
the  air  and  the  walk  will  do  me  good ;  and 
then  you  know  I  can't  see  Mr.  Morion 
swindled,"  and  he  laughed  merrily  as  he 
looked  quizzically  at  the  dealer. 

The  entrance  of  the  distinguished 
painter  into  the  gallery  of  the  auctioneer 
with  his  quick,  alert  manner  and  erect,  mili 
tary  bearing,  the  Legion  of  Honor  in  his 
lapel,  soon  attracted  attention.  Schenck 
came  up  and  shook  Gregg's  hands  cor 
dially,  repeating  his  name  aloud  so  that 
every  one  could  hear  it  —  especially  the 
[94] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

prospective  buyers,  some  of  whom  gazed 
after  him,  remarking  to  their  fellows,  as 
they  shielded  their  lips  with  their  cata 
logues  :  "  That's  Gregg !  " — a  name  which 
needed  no  further  explanation. 

"  I  have  come  to  look  at  a  Stuart  that 
Mr.  Morion  wants  to  buy  if  it  is  genu- 
uine,"  said  Gregg.  "  Tell  me  what  you 
know  about  it.  Where  did  it  come 
from?" 

"I  don't  know;  it  was  left  on  storage 
and  is  to  be  sold  for  expenses." 

"  Is  it  to  be  sold  to  the  highest  bidder?  " 

"  No,  at  private  sale." 

"Where  is  it?" 

u  There — behind  you." 

Gregg  turned  and  caught  his  breath. 

Before  him  was  a  portrait  of  a  young 
woman  in  an  old-fashioned  gown,  her 
golden  hair  enshrining  a  face  of  marvellous 

[95] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

beauty,  one  long  curl  straying  down  a 
shoulder  of  exquisite  mould  and  finish,  the 
whole  relieved  by  a  background  of  blos 
soms  held  together  in  a  quaint  earthen 
jar. 

Strong  man  as  he  was,  the  shock  almost 
overcame  him.  He  reached  out  his  hand 
and  grasped  the  back  of  a  chair.  Tears 
welled  up  in  his  eyes. 

The  auctioneer  had  been  watching  him 
closely. 

"  You  seem  to  like  it,  Mr.  Gregg." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Adam  in  restrained, 
measured  tones.  '  Yes,  very  much.  But 
you  have  been  misinformed;  it  is  not  by 
Gilbert  Stuart.  It  is  by  a  man  I  know,  I 
saw  him  paint  it.  Tell  Mr.  Morion  so. 
Send  it  to  my  studio,  please,  and  credit  this 
gentleman  with  the  commission — I'll  buy 
it  for  old  association's  sake." 

[96] 


"It  is  by  a  man  I  know,   I  saw  him  paint  it." 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

That  night,  when  it  grew  quite  dark,  he 
took  the  portrait  from  where  the  cartman 
had  left  it  in  his  studio  with  its  face  to  the 
wall — never  again  would  it  suffer  that  in 
dignity — and  placed  it  under  his  skylight. 
He  wanted  to  see  what  the  fading  light 
would  do — whether  the  changed  colors 
would  once  more  unlock  the  secrets  of  a 
soul.  Again,  as  in  the  dim  shimmer  of  the 
dawn,  there  struggled  out  from  the  won 
derful  eyes  that  same  pleading  look — the 
look  he  had  seen  on  its  face  the  morning 
he  had  left  Derwood  Manor — as  if  she 
needed  help  and  was  appealing  to  him  for 
sympathy.  Then  he  flashed  up  the  circle 
of  gas  jets,  flooding  the  studio  with  light. 
Instantly  all  her  joyousness  returned.  Once 
more  there  shone  out  the  old  happy  smile 
and  laughing  eyes.  Loosening  the  nails 
that  held  the  canvas,  he  freed  the  portrait 

[97] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

from  its  gaudy  frame,  and  with  the  re 
mark — u  It  was  unframed  when  I  kissed  it 
last,"  placed  it  over  the  mantel,  moving 
some  curios  out  of  the  way  so  it  would  rest 
the  more  firmly;  then  he  dropped  into  a 
chair  before  it. 

He  was  in  the  past  again — twenty-five 
years  before,  living  once  more  the  long 
hours  in  the  garret  with  its  background  of 
blossoms;  roaming  the  woods;  listening  to 
the  sound  of  her  joyous  laughter  when  she 
caught  little  Phil  to  her  breast.  Then 
there  rang  in  his  ear  that  terrible  moan 
when  Judge  Colton  denounced  them  both; 
and  the  sob  in  her  voice  as  she  sank  at  his 
feet  that  night.  He  could  catch  the  very 
perfume  of  her  hair  and  feel  the  hot  tears 
on  his  hand.  If  only  the  lips  would  open 
and  once  more  whisper  his  name !  What 
had  sent  her  back,  to  soothe  him  with  her 
beauty?  [  ^  j 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

His  whole  life  passed  in  review — his 
hopes,  his  ambitions,  his  struggles;  the 
years  of  loneliness,  of  misunderstanding, 
and  the  final  triumph — a  triumph  made  all 
the  more  bitter  by  a  fate  which  had  pre 
vented  her  sharing  it  with  him.  With  this 
there  arose  in  his  mind  the  picture  of  two 
gaunt  chimneys  outlined  against  a  cold, 
gray  sky;  the  trees  bare  of  leaves,  the 
grass  shrivelled  and  brown — and  then, 
like  a  refrain,  came  the  long-forgotten 
song: 

<<  Weep  no  mo',  me  lady." 

Raising  himself  to  his  feet  he  leaned 
over  the  mantel  and  looked  long  and  stead 
ily  into  the  eyes  of  the  portrait. 

"  Olivia,"  he  whispered — in  a  voice  that 
was  barely  audible — "  I  did  not  intend  to 
be  cruel.  Forgive  me,  dear;  there  was 

[99] 


AN    OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

nothing  else  to  do — it  was  the  only  way, 
my  darling!  n 

He  was  still  in  his  chair,  the  studio  a 
blaze  of  light,  when  a  brother  painter  from 
the  studio  opposite,  whose  knock  had  been 
unheeded,  pushed  open  the  door.  Even 
then  Gregg  did  not  stir  until  the  intruder 
laid  a  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 


VI 

BY  noon  the  next  day  half  the  occupants 
of  the  old  studio  building  came  in 
to  see  the  new  portrait.  He  had  not  told 
of  this  one,  but  the  brother  painter  had 
spread  the  news  of  the  "  find  "  through  the 
building. 

It  was  not  the  first  time  Adam  Gregg's 
"  finds  "  had  been  the  subject  of  discussion 
among  his  fellows.  The  sketch  by  Velas 
quez — now  the  pride  of  the  gallery  that 
owned  it — and  which  had  been  discovered 
by  him  in  a  lumber-room  over  a  market, 
and  the  Romney  which  had  been  doing 
duty  as  a  chimney-screen,  had  been  the  talk 
of  the  town  for  weeks. 

[101] 


.THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 


"  Looks  more  like  a  Sully  than  a  Stu 
art,"  said  the  brother  painter,  his  eyes  half 
closed  to  get  the  better  effect.  "  Got  all 
Sully's  coloring." 

"Stunning  girl,  anyway;  doesn't  make 
any  difference  who  painted  it,"  suggested 
another.  '  That  kind  seem  to  have  died 
out.  You  read  about  them  in  books,  but 
I've  never  met  one." 

"  Wonderful  flesh,"  remarked  a  third 
with  meaning  in  his  voice.  "  If  it  isn't  by 
Sully  it's  by  somebody  who  believed  in 
him." 

No  one  suspected  Gregg's  brush.  His 
style  had  changed  with  the  years — so  had 
his  color:  that  palette  had  been  set  with 
the  yellow,  red,  and  blue  of  sunshine,  blos 
som  and  sky,  and  the  paints  had  been 
mixed  with  laughter.  Nor  did  he  tell  them 
he  himself  had  painted  it.  This  part  of  his 

[102] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

life  was  guarded  with  the  same  care  with 
which  he  would  have  guarded  his  mother's 
secrets.  Had  he  owned  a  shrine  he  would 
have  placed  the  picture  over  its  altar  that 
he  might  kneel  before  it. 

"  These  blue-eyed  blondes,"  continued 
the  first  speaker  meditatively  with  his  eyes 
on  the  portrait,  "  send  a  lot  of  men  to  the 
devil." 

Gregg  looked  up,  but  made  no  reply. 
Both  the  tone  of  the  man  and  his  words 
jarred  on  him. 

'  You  can  forget  a  brunette,"  he  went 
on,  "  no  matter  how  bewitching  she  may 
be,  but  one  of  these  peaches-and-cream 
girls — the  blue-eyed,  red-lipped,  white- 
skinned  combination — takes  hold  of  a  fel 
low.  This  man  knew  all  about  it — "  and  he 
waved  his  hand  at  the  portrait. 

"  Is  that  all  you  see  in  it?  "  rejoined 

[103] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

Gregg  coldly.  "  Is  there  nothing  under 
the  paint  that  appeals  to  you?  Something 
of  the  soul  of  the  woman?  " 

*  Yes,  and  that's  just  what  counts  in 
these  blondes ;  that  '  soul  '  you  talk  about. 
That's  what  makes  'em  dangerous.  That's 
what  captured  Hartman,  I  guess.  Mrs. 
Bowdoin's  got  just  that  girl's  coloring — 
not  so  pretty,"  and  he  glanced  at  the  can 
vas,  "  but  along  her  lines.  Old  man  Bow- 
doin  says  he's  ruined  his  home." 

"  Yes,  and  it's  pretty  rough  I  tell  you 
on  the  old  man,"  remarked  a  third.  "  I 
saw  him  yesterday.  The  poor  fellow  is  all 
broken  up.  There's  going  to  be  a  row,  and 
a  hot  one,  I  hear.  Pistols,  divorce;  the 
air's  blue;  all  sorts  of  things.  Old  fellow 
blusters,  but  he  looks  ten  years  older." 

Gregg    had    risen    from    his   chair    and 
stood  facing  the  speaker,  his  brown  eyes 
[  104] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

flashing,  his  lips  quivering.  The  talk  had 
drifted  in  a  direction  that  set  his  blood  to 
tingling. 

"  You  tell  me  that  Hartman  has  at  last 
run  away  with  Mrs.  Bowdoin!"  he  ex 
claimed  angrily,  his  voice  rising  in  inten 
sity  as  he  proceeded.  "  Has  he  finally 
turned  scoundrel  and  made  an  outcast  of 
himself  and  of  her?  I  have  been  expecting 
something  of  the  kind  ever  since  I  saw  him 
in  Bowdoin's  studio  at  his  last  reception. 
And  do  you  really  mean  to  tell  me  that  he 
has  actually  run  off  with  her?  " 

''  Well,  not  exactly  run  off — she's  gone 
to  her  mother.  She's  only  half  Bowdoin's 
age,  you  know.  Hartman,  of  course,  pooh- 
poohs  the  whole  thing." 

"  And  he's  Bowdoin's  friend,  I  suppose 
you  know !  "  Gregg  continued  in  a  re 
strained,  incisive  tone. 

[105] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

1  Yes,  certainly,  studied  with  him;  that's 
where  he  met  her  so  often." 

Gregg  began  pacing  the  floor.  Stopping 
short  in  his  walk  he  turned  and  faced  the 
group  about  the  fire : 

"  Does  he  realize,"  he  burst  out  in  a 
voice  that  rang  through  the  room  and  fas 
tened  every  eye  upon  him — "  what  his 
cowardly  weakness  will  bring  him?  The 
misery  it  will  entail;  the  sleepless  nights, 
the  fear,  the  remorse  that  will  follow? 
The  outrage  on  Bowdoin's  home,  on  his 
children?  Has  he  thought  of  the  humilia 
tion  of  the  man  deserted — the  degradation 
of  the  man  who  caused  it?  Does  he  know 
what  it  is  to  live  a  life  where  every  decent 
woman  brands  you  as  a  scoundrel,  and 
every  decent  man  looks  upon  you  as  a 
thief?" 

The  outburst  astounded  the  room.     One 
[106] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

or  two  arose  from  their  chairs  and  stood 
looking  at  him  in  amazement.  Gregg  was 
often  outspoken;  right  was  right  with  him, 
and  wrong  was  wrong,  and  he  never 
minced  matters.  They  loved  him  for  his 
frankness  and  courage,  but  this  outbreak 
seemed  entirely  uncalled  for  by  anything 
that  had  been  said  or  done.  Surely  there 
must  be  a  personal  side  to  his  attitude. 
Had  any  friend  of  his  any  such  experience 
that  he  should  explode  so  suddenly?  What 
made  it  all  the  more  unaccountable  was 
that  he  never  talked  gossip,  and  never  al 
lowed  any  man  to  speak  ill  of  a  friend  in 
his  presence,  no  matter  what  the  cause — 
and  Hartman  was  his  friend.  Why,  then, 
should  he  pounce  upon  him  without  proof 
of  any  kind  other  than  the  gossip  of  the 
studios? 

'  Well,    my   dear   Gregg,    don't  blame 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

me,"  laughed  the  painter  who  had  borne 
the  brunt  of  the  outbreak  and  whom  Adam 
had  singled  out  to  listen  to  his  attack.  "  I 
haven't  run  off  with  pretty  Mrs.  Bowdoin,, 
or  made  love  to  her  either,  have  I  ?  " 

"  But  you  still  shake  hands  with  Hart- 
man,  don't  you?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do.  I  couldn't  show  him 
the  door,  could  I?  He's  made  an  ass  of 
himself,  but  it's  none  of  my  business. 
They'll  have  to  patch  it  up  between  them. 
Don't  get  excited,  Gregg,  and  don't  forget 
that  the  jury  meets  this  afternoon  at  four 
o'clock  in  my  studio." 

"  I  will  be  there,"  replied  Adam  curtly, 
"  but  I  cannot  stay  very  long.  I  have  an 
appointment  at  four. 

The  room  was  full  of  his  brother  paint 
ers  when,  some  hours  later,  his  red  Spanish. 
[108] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

bolna  on  his  head — he  always  wore  it  when 
at  work — Gregg  entered  the  studio  on  the 
floor  below  his  own.  It  was  the  first  in 
formal  meeting  of  the  Jury  of  the  Acad 
emy,  and  an  important  one.  Some  of  the 
men  were  grouped  about  the  fire,  smoking, 
or  lolling  in  their  chairs;  others  were 
stretched  out  on  the  lounges;  two  or  three 
were  looking  over  some  etchings  that  had 
been  brought  in  by  a  fellow-member.  All 
had  been  awaiting  Adam's  arrival.  Those 
who  had  been  gathered  about  the  por 
trait  were  discussing  Gregg's  denunciation 
of  Hartman.  All  agreed  that  with  their 
knowledge  of  the  man's  universal  kindness 
and  courtesy  that  the  outburst  was  as  un 
accountable  as  it  was  astounding. 

Gregg  shook  hands  with  the  group,  one 
by  one,  those  who  were  reclining  rising  to 
their  feet  and  the  others  pressing  forward 

[  109] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

to  greet  him;  then  drawing  out  a  chair  at 
the  end  of  the  long  table,  he  called  the 
meeting  to  order.  As  he  took  his  seat  a 
man  of  thirty  in  an  overcoat,  his  hat  in  his 
hand,  walked  hurriedly  in  through  the  open 
door,  and  stood  for  a  moment  looking 
about  him,  a  sickly,  wavering  expression 
on  his  face,  as  if  uncertain  of  his  welcome. 
It  was  Hartman. 

He  was  a  member  of  the  Council,  and 
therefore  privileged  to  attend  any  meeting. 

Gregg  pushed  back  his  chair  and  rose  to 
his  feet,  a  certain  flash  of  indignation  in 
his  eyes  that  few  of  his  friends  had  ever 
seen. 

"  Stop  where  you  are,  Mr.  Hartman," 
he  said  in  low,  cutting  tones.  "  I  prefer  to 
conduct  this  meeting  without  you." 

"  And  I  prefer  to  stay  where  I  am,"  an 
swered  Hartman  in  an  unsteady  voice,  gaz- 
[no] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

ing  about  as  if  in  search  of  some  friendly 
eye.  "  I  have  as  much  right  to  be  at  this 
meeting  as  you  have,"  he  continued,  ad 
vancing  toward  the  pile  of  coats  and  hats. 

Adam  was  in  front  of  him  now,  his  big, 
broad  frame  almost  touching  the  intruder. 
The  quick,  determined  movement  meant 
danger.  No  one  had  ever  seen  Gregg  so 
stirred. 

*  You  will  do  as  I  tell  you,  sir !  Leave 
the  room — now — at  once !  Do  you  hear 
me!" 

Every  man  was  on  his  feet.  Those  who 
had  heard  Gregg's  outburst  a  few  hours  be 
fore  knew  the  reason.  Others  were  en 
tirely  ignorant  of  the  cause  of  his  wrath. 

'  You  are  not  responsible  for  me  or  my 
actions.  I'm  a  man  who  can 

"  Man !  You  are  not  a  man,  sir !  You 
are  a  thief,  one  who  steals  into  a  brother 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

painter's  home  and  robs  him  of  everything 
he  holds  dear.  Get  out  of  here !  Go  and 
hide  yourself  in  the  uttermost  parts  of  the 
earth  where  no  man  you  ever  saw  will 
know  you  !  Jump  into  the  sea  —  destroy 
yourself !  Go,  you  leper !  Savages  protect 
their  women !  " 

He  had  his  fingers  in  Hartman's  collar 
now  and  was  backing  him  toward  the  door. 
One  or  two  men  tried  to  stop  him,  but 
Gregg's  voice  rang  out  clear : 

"  Keep  your  hands  off !  Out  he  goes,  if 
I  have  to  throw  him  downstairs.  Stand 
back,  all  of  you — "  and  with  a  mighty  ef 
fort  he  caught  the  younger  and  apparently 
stronger  man  under  the  armpits  and  hurled 
him  through  the  open  doorway. 

For  some  seconds  no  one  spoke.  The 
suddenness  of  the  attack,  the  uncontrollable 
anger  of  the  distinguished  painter — so  gen- 

[112] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

tie  and  forbearing  always — the  tremendous 
strength  of  the  man;  the  cowering  look  on 
Hartman's  face — a  look  that  plainly  told 
of  his  guilt — had  stunned  every  one  in  the 
room. 

Gregg  broke  the  silence.  He  had  locked 
the  door  on  Hartman  and  was  again  in 
his  chair  by  the  table,  a  flushed  face 
and  rumpled  shirt  the  only  marks  of 
the  encounter. 

"  I  owe  you  an  apology,  gentlemen,"  he 
said,  adjusting  his  cuffs  and  speaking  in 
the  same  voice  with  which  he  would  have 
asked  for  a  match  to  light  his  cigar.  "  I 
did  not  intend  to  disturb  the  meeting,  but 
there  are  some  things  I  cannot  stand.  We 
have  curs  prowling  around  in  society,  walk 
ing  in  and  out  of  decent  homes,  trusted  and 
believed  in,  that  are  twice  as  dangerous 
as  mad  dogs.  Hartman  is  one  of  them. 

[113] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

When  they  bite  they  kill.  The  only  way 
is  to  shut  your  doors  in  their  faces.  That 
I  shall  do  whenever  one  crosses  my  path. 
And  now,  if  you  will  excuse  me,  I  will  ask 
one  of  you  to  fill  my  place  and  let  me  go 
back  to  my  studio.  I  have  an  appointment 
at  four,  as  I  told  you  this  morning,  and  I'm 
late." 

Once  in  the  corridor  he  stepped  to  the 
rail,  looked  over  the  banisters  as  if  in  ex 
pectation  of  seeing  the  object  of  his  wrath, 
and  slowly  mounted  the  stairs  to  his  studio. 
As  he  approached  the  velvet  curtain  he 
heard  through  the  half-closed  door  a  heavy 
step.  Some  one  was  walking  about  inside. 
Was  Hartman  waiting  for  him  to  renew 
the  conflict?  he  wondered.  Pushing  aside 
the  curtain  he  stepped  boldly  in. 

On  the  mat  before  the  fire,  with  his  back 
to  the  door,  his  eyes  fixed  on  Olivia's  por- 

[114] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

trait,  stood  a  young  man  he  had  never  seen 
before.  As  the  overhead  light  fell  on  his 
glossy  hair  and  over  his  clean-shaven  face 
and  well-groomed  body,  Gregg  noticed  that 
he  belonged  to  the  class  of  prosperous  busi 
ness  men  of  the  day.  This  was  not  only  ap 
parent  in  the  way  his  well-cut  clothes  fitted 
his  slender  body — perfect  in  appointment, 
from  the  bunch  of  violets  in  his  button-hole 
to  his  polished  shoes — but  in  his  quick 
movements. 

"  Have  I  made  a  mistake?  "  the  young 

man    asked    in    a    crisp,     decisive    voice. 

'  This  is  Mr.  Adam  Gregg,  is  it  not?     I 

found  your  door  on  a  crack  and  thought 

you  were  not  far  off." 

"  No,  you  haven't  made  a  mistake," 
answered  Adam  courteously,  startled  out 
of  his  mood  by  the  bearing  and  kindly 
greeting  of  the  stranger.  "  My  name  is 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

Gregg — what  can  I  do  for  you?"  All 
trace  of  his  former  agitation  was  gone 
now. 

"  Well,  I  am  here  on  behalf  of  my 
special  partner,  Mr.  Eggleston,  who  is  also 
a  director  in  one  of  our  companies,  and 
who  had  an  appointment  with  you  at  four 
o'clock.  He  is  detained  at  the  trust  com 
pany's  office,  and  I  came  in  his  stead.  The 
portrait,  as  I  suppose  that  little  fellow — 
I  forget  his  name — has  told  you,  is  to  hang 
up  in  the  office  of  the  Portage  Copper 
Company — that's  our  company.  We  want 
a  full-sized  portrait — big  and  important. 
Mr.  Eggleston  is  a  good  deal  of  a  man,  you 
know,  and  there's  a  business  side  to  it — 
business  side  to  most  everything  in  the 
Street,"  this  came  with  a  half-laugh.  "  I'll 
tell  you  about  that  later.  You  never  saw 
him,  of  course.  No? — he's  so  busy  he 
[116] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

doesn't  get  around  much  uptown.  Fine, 
large,  rather  imposing-looking — white  hair, 
red  face  and  big  hands — lots  of  color  about 
him — ought  to  paint  him,  I  suppose,  with 
his  hand  on  a  globe,  or  some  books.  I'm 
not  posted  on  these  things,  but  you'll  know 
when  you  see  him.  He'll  be  up  any  day 
next  week  that  you  say.  We  want  it  right 
away,  of  course.  Some  business  in  that, 
too,"  and  another  faint  laugh  escaped  his 
lips. 

All  this  time  Gregg  had  been  standing 
in  front  of  the  stranger  waiting  for  an  op 
portunity  to  offer  him  his  hand  and  tell 
how  sorry  he  was  to  have  kept  him  wait 
ing,  explaining  the  meeting  of  the  jury 
and  his  being  obliged  to  be  present,  but 
the  flow  of  talk  had  continued  without  a 
break  and  in  a  way  that  began  to  attract 
his  attention. 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

"  Got  a  nice  place  here,"  the  young  man 
rattled  on,  gazing  about  him  as  he  spoke; 
"  first  time  I  was  ever  in  a  studio,  and  first 
time,  too,  I  ever  met  a  real  painter  in  his 
workshop.  I'm  so  tied  down.  Valuable, 
these  things  you've  got  here,  too — cost  a  lot 
of  money.  I  buy  a  few  myself  now  and 
then.  By  the  bye,  while  I  was  waiting  for 
you  to  come  in  I  couldn't  help  looking  at 
the  pictures  and  things." 

He  had  stepped  closer  now,  his  eyes 
boring  into  Gregg's  as  if  he  were  try 
ing  to  read  his  mind.  For  an  instant 
Gregg  thought  an  extra  cocktail  on  the 
way  uptown  was  the  cause  of  his  garru- 
lousness. 

"  Of  course  I  know  it's  all  right,  Mr. 
Gregg,  or  you  wouldn't  have  it — and  you 
needn't  tell  me  if  you  don't  want  to — may 
be  I  oughtn't  to  ask,  been  so  long  ago  and 
[118] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

everything  lost  track  of — but  you  won't 
feel  offended  if  I  do,  will  you?  "  He  had 
his  hand  on  Gregg's  shoulder  now,  his  lips 
quivering,  a  peculiar  look  in  his  eyes. 
"  Come  across  here  with  me,  please.  No — 
this  way,  to  the  fireplace.  Where  did  you 
get  that  portrait?  " 

Gregg  felt  a  sudden  relief.  The  man 
wasn't  drunk — it  was  the  beauty  of  the 
picture  which  had  affected  him.  He 
could  forgive  him  that,  although  he  felt 
sure  the  next  move  would  be  an  offer 
to  purchase  it.  He  had  met  his  kind 
before. 

"  I  bought  it  at  private  sale,"  he  an 
swered  simply. 

"When?" 

"  Yesterday." 

"Who  sold  it  to  you?" 

"  Schenck,  the  auctioneer." 

[119] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

"  Will  you  sell  it  to  me?" 

"No;  I  never  sell  anything  of  that 
kind." 

"  Not  at  a  large  price?  " 

"  Not  any  price,"  Gregg  replied  in  a  de 
cided  tone.  It  was  just  as  he  expected. 
These  men  of  business  gauge  everything 
by  their  bank  accounts.  One  of  them  had 
had  the  impertinence  to  ask  him  to  fill 
up  a  blank  check  for  the  contents  of  his 
studio. 

"  Where  did  it  come  from?  " 

"  Schenck  told  me  he  didn't  know.  It 
was  held  for  storage.  It  seems  to  interest 
you?  "  There  was  a  slight  tone  of  resent 
ment  in  Gregg's  voice. 

*  Yes,  it  does,  more  than  I  can  tell  you, 
more  than  you  can  understand."  His  voice 
had  lost  its  nervousness  now. 

u  It  reminds  you  of  some  one,  per- 
[  120] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

haps?  "  asked  Gregg.  There  might,  after 
all,  be  some  spark  of  sentiment  in  the  young 
man. 

"  Yes,  it  does,"  he  continued,  devouring 
it  with  his  eyes.  "  I  haven't  seen  it  since  I 
was  a  child." 

"  You  know  it,  then !  "  It  was  Gregg's 
turn  to  be  surprised.  "  Where  did  you  see 
it,  may  I  ask?  " 

"  Down  in  Maryland,  at  Derwood 
Manor,  before  it  was  burned." 

The  blood  mounted  to  Gregg's  cheeks 
and  he  was  about  to  speak.  Then  he 
checked  himself.  He  did  not  want  to 
know  of  the  portrait's  vicissitudes.  That 
it  was  now  where  he  could  be  locked  up 
with  it,  made  up  for  everything  it  had  come 
through. 

'  Yes,  these  memories  are  very  curious," 
remarked  Gregg  in  a  more  gentle  tone. 


AN    OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

"  It  reminds  me  also  of  some  one  I  once 
knew.  Don't  you  think  it  is  very  beau 
tiful?" 

"Beautiful!  Beautifull  It's  the  most 
beautiful  thing  in  the  world  to  me !  Why, 
it's  my  own  mother,  Mr.  Gregg  I  " 

"  Your  —  your  own  mother  I  What's 
your  name?  " 

"  Philip  Colton." 


[  122] 


VII 

THE  same  poise  that  restrained  Adam 
Gregg  when  he  came  suddenly 
upon  Olivia's  portrait  in  the  auction-room 
sustained  him  when  he  looked  into  the  eyes 
of  the  young  man  whom,  years  before,  he 
had  left  as  a  child  at  Derwood  Manor. 

"  Are  you  sure?  "  he  asked.  He  knew 
he  was — he  only  wanted  some  fresh  light 
on  the  dark  record.  For  years  the  book 
had  been  sealed. 

"  Am  I  sure?  Why  it  used  to  be  in  the 
garret  till  my  father  died,  and  then  my 
mother  brought  it  down  into  her  room.  I 
have  seen  her  sit  before  it  for  hours — she 
loved  it.  And  once  I  found  her  kissing  it. 
[  123] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

Strange,  isn't  it,  how  a  woman  will  regret 
her  youth? — and  yet  I  always  thought  my 
mother  beautiful  even  when  her  hair  turned 
gray." 

Gregg  turned  his  head  and  tightened  his. 
fingers.  For  an  instant  he  feared  his  tears 
would  unman  him. 

"  If  it  is  your  mother's  portrait,"  he  saidy 
"  the  picture  belongs  to  you,  not  to  me.  I 
bought  it  because  it  recalled  a  face  I  once 
knew,  and  for  its  beauty.  A  man  has  but 
one  mother,  and  if  your  own  was  like  this 
one  she  must  be  your  most  precious  mem 
ory.  I  did  not  intend  to  part  with  it,  but 
I'll  give  it  to  you." 

"  Oh!  you  are  very  good,  Mr.  Gregg," 
burst  out  the  young  man,  grasping  Adam's 
hand  (Adam  caught  Olivia's  smile  now, 
flashing  across  his  features),  "but  I  have 
no  place  for  it — not  yet.  I  may  have  later, 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

when  I  have  a  home  of  my  own;  that  de 
pends  upon  my  business.  I'll  only  ask  you 
to  let  me  come  in  once  in  a  while  to 


see  it." 


Gregg  returned  the  grasp  heartily,  de 
claring  that  his  door  was  always  open  to 
him  at  any  time  and  the  picture  at  his  dis 
posal  whenever  he  should  claim  it.  He 
did  not  tell  him  he  had  painted  it.  He 
did  not  tell  him  that  he  had  known  either 
Olivia  or  his  father,  or  of  his  visit  ten  years 
later.  That  part  of  his  life  had  had  a  sad 
and  bitter  end.  Both  of  them  were  dead; 
the  house  in  ruins — why  rake  among  the 
cinders? 

All  that  spring,  in  response  to  Adam's 
repeated  welcomes,  Philip  Colton  made  ex 
cuses  to  drop  into  Gregg's  studio.  At  first 
to  postpone  the  time  for  Mr.  Eggleston's 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

sittings;  then  to  invite  Gregg  to  dinner  at 
his  club  to  meet  some  brother  financiers, 
which  Gregg  declined;  again  to  get  his 
opinion  on  some  trinkets  he  had  bought, 
and  still  again  to  bring  him  some  flowers, 
he  having  noticed  that  the  painter  was 
never  without  them — nor  was  the  portrait, 
for  that  matter,  Adam  always  placing  a 
cluster  of  blossoms  or  a  bunch  of  roses  near 
the  picture,  either  on  the  mantel  beneath 
or  on  the  table  beside  it. 

Sometimes  Adam  when  leaving  his  door 
on  a  crack  would  find  that  in  his  absence 
in  an  adjoining  studio,  Colton  had  come 
and  gone,  the  only  record  of  his  visit  being 
a  mass  of  roses  he  himself  had  placed  be 
neath  his  mother's  portrait.  Once  he  sur 
prised  the  young  man  standing  before  it 
looking  up  into  the  eyes  as  if  waiting  for 
her  to  speak.  Incidents  like  these  showed 

[126] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

his  better  and  more  sympathetic  nature  and 
drew  Adam  to  him  the  closer. 

And  the  growth  of  the  friendship  was 
not  all  on  one  side.  Not  only  was  Gregg's 
type  of  man  absolutely  new  to  the  young 
financier,  but  his  workshop  was  a  never- 
ending  surprise.  The  fact  that  neither 
bonds  nor  stocks,  nor  anything  connected 
with  them,  was  ever  discussed  inside  its  tap 
estried  walls,  opened  up  for  him  new  vistas 
in  life.  The  latest  novel  might  be  gone 
into  or  a  character  in  a  recent  play;  or  the 
rendering  of  a  symphony,  or  some  fresh 
discovery  in  science,  but  nothing  of  gain. 
What  struck  him  as  more  extraordinary 
still  was  the  air  of  repose  that  was  every 
where  apparent,  so  different  from  his  own 
busy  life,  and  at  any  hour  of  the  day,  too. 
This  was  apparent  not  only  in  the  voices, 
but  in  the  attitude  and  bearing  of  the 
[  127  ] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

men  who  formed  the  painter's  circle  of 
friends. 

Sometimes  he  would  find  Macklin,  the 
sculptor — up  from  his  atelier  in  the  base 
ment — buried  in  a  chair  and  a  book,  pipe 
in  mouth,  before  Gregg's  fire — had  been 
there  for  hours  when  Phil  entered.  Again 
he  would  catch  the  sound  of  the  piano  as 
he  mounted  the  stairs,  only  to  discover  Put 
ney,  the  landscape  painter,  running  his  fin 
gers  over  the  keys,  while  Adam  stood  be 
fore  his  easel  touching  his  canvas  here  or 
there;  or  he  would  interrupt  old  Sonheim, 
who  kept  the  book-shop  at  the  corner,  and 
who  had  known  Adam  for  years — while  he 
read  aloud  this  and  that  quotation  from  a 
musty  volume,  Adam  stretched  out  at  full 
length  on  his  divan,  the  smoke  of  his  ciga 
rette  drifting  blue  in  the  overhead  light. 

These  restful  contrasts  to  his  own  life 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

interested  and  astonished  him.  Since  his 
father's  death  he  had  had  few  hours  of  real 
repose.  While  not  yet  fifteen  he  had  been 
thrown  out  into  the  world  to  earn  his  bread. 
A  successful  earning,  for  he  was  already 
head  of  his  firm,  in  which  his  prospective 
father-in-law,  Mr.  Eggleston,  the  rich 
banker,  was  special  partner,  and  young 
Eggleston  the  junior  member.  An  honor 
able  career,  too,  for  the  house  stood  high 
in  the  Street,  and  its  credit  was  above  re 
proach  in  the  commercial  world,  their  com 
pany — the  Portage  Copper  Company, 
whose  securities  they  financed — being  one 
of  the  many  important  mining  properties 
in  the  great  Northwest.  All  this  he  owed 
to  his  own  indomitable  will  and  pluck,  and 
to  his  untiring  industry — a  quality  devel 
oped  in  many  another  young  Southerner 
the  victim  of  the  war  and  its  aftermath. 
[  129] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

And  he  was  always  welcome. 

Apart  from  the  tie  that  bound  them  to 
gether — of  which  Philip  was  unconscious 
— Adam's  heart  went  out  to  the  young  fel 
low  as  many  another  childless,  wifeless 
man's  has  gone  out  to  youth.  He  loved 
his  enthusiasms,  his  industry,  his  successes. 
Most  of  all  he  loved  the  young  man's 
frankness — the  way  in  which  he  kept  noth 
ing  back — even  his  earlier  escapades,  many 
of  which  he  should  have  been  ashamed  of. 
Then  again  he  loved  the  reverence  with 
which  Phil  treated  him,  the  deference  to  his 
opinions,  the  acceptance  of  his  standards. 
Most  of  all  he  loved  him  for  the  memory 
of  the  long  ago. 

It  was  only  when  the  overmastering 
power  of  money  became  the  dominant 
force — the  one  recognized  and  gloated 
over  by  Philip — that  his  face  grew  grave. 

[130] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

It  was  then  that  the  older  and  wiser  man, 
with  his  keen  insight  into  the  human  heart, 
trembled  for  the  younger,  fearing  that 
some  sudden  pressure,  either  of  fortune 
or  misfortune,  might  sweep  him  off  his 
feet.  It  was  at  these  times — Philip's  face 
all  excitement  with  the  telling  —  that 
Adam's  penetrating  eyes,  searching  into 
the  inner  places,  would  find  the  hard, 
almost  pitiless  lines  which  he  remembered 
so  well  in  the  father's  face  repeated  in  the 
son's. 

There  was,  however,  one  subject  which 
swept  these  lines  out  of  his  face.  That  was 
when  Phil  would  speak  of  Madeleine,  the 
rich  banker's  daughter — Madeleine  with 
her  sunny  eyes  and  merry  laugh — "  Only 
up  to  my  shoulder — such  a  dear  girl !  " 
Then  there  would  break  over  the  young 
man's  face  that  joyous,  irradiating  smile, 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

that  sudden  sparkle  of  the  eye  and  quiver 
of  the  lip  that  had  made  his  own  mother's 
face  so  enchanting.  On  these  occasions  the 
Street  and  all  it  stood  for,  as  well  as  books 
and  everything  else,  was  forgotten  and 
Madeleine  would  become  the  sole  topic. 
These  two  influences  struggled  for  mastery 
in  the  young  man's  heart;  influences  un 
known  to  Philip,  but  clear  as  print  to  the 
eye  of  the  thoughtful  man  of  the  world 
who,  day  by  day,  read  his  companion's 
mind  the  clearer. 

As  to  Madeleine  no  subject  could  be 
more  congenial. 

When  a  young  fellow  under  thirty  has 
found  a  sympathetic  old  fellow  of  fifty  to 
listen  to  talks  of  his  sweetheart,  and  when 
that  old  fellow  of  fifty  has  found  a  com 
panion  with  a  look  in  his  eyes  of  the  woman 
he  loved  and  who  carries  in  his  face  some- 

[13^3 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

thing  of  the  joy  he  knew  in  youth,  it  is  no 
wonder  that  these  two  became  still  greater 
friends,  or  that  Philip's  tread  outside 
Adam  Gregg's  door  was  always  followed 
by  a  quick  beat  of  the  painter's  heart  and 
a  warm  grasp  of  his  hand. 

One  afternoon  Philip  came  in  with  a 
spring  quite  different  from  either  his  ner 
vous  walk  or  his  more  measured  tread — 
his  "  bank  director's  step  "  Adam  used  to 
call  it  with  a  smile.  This  time  he  was  on 
his  toes,  his  hands  in  the  air  tossing  the 
velvet  curtains  aside  with  a  swing  as  he 
sprang  inside. 

''Madeleine's  home  from  the  West!" 
he  burst  out.  "  Now  at  last  you'll  see  her, 
and  you've  got  to  paint  her,  too.  Oh,  she 
knows  all  about  the  portrait  and  how  you 
found  it;  and  this  studio  and  the  blossoms 
you  love,  and  everything.  My  letters  have 

[133] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

been  full  of  nothing  else  all  winter.  She's 
crazy  to  see  you." 

"  Not  any  more  crazy  than  I  am  to  see 
her,"  laughed  Adam,  with  his  hand  on  the 
young  man's  shoulder. 

And  so  one  spring  morning — all  beauti 
ful  things  came  to  him  on  spring  mornings, 
Adam  told  her — Madeleine  pushed  her 
pretty  little  head  between  the  velvet  cur 
tains  and  peered  in,  Phil  close  behind  her,  a 
bunch  of  violets  in  his  button-hole. 

"  This  is  dear  Adam  Gregg,  Made 
leine,"  was  her  lover's  introduction,  "  and 
there's  nobody  like  him,  and  never  will  be." 

The  girl  stopped,  the  overhead  light  fall 
ing  on  her  dainty  hat  and  trim  figure;  her 
black  eyes  in  comprehensive  glance  taking 
in  Adam  standing  against  a  hazy  back 
ground  of  beautiful  things  with  both  hands 
outstretched. 

[134] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

"  And  I  am  so  glad  to  be  here  and  to 
know  you,"  she  said,  walking  straight  tow 
ard  him  and  laying  her  little  hands  in  his. 

"  And  so  am  I,"  answered  Adam. 
"  And  I  know  everything  about  you.  Phil 
says  you  can  ride  like  the  wind,  and  dance 
so  that  your  toes  never  touch  the  floor,  and 
that  you " 

"  Yes,  and  so  do  I  know  every  single 
thing  about  you  " — here  she  looked  at  him 
critically — "  and  you — yes,  you  are  just  as 
I  hoped  you,  would  be.  Phil's  letters  have 
had  nothing  else  in  them  since  you  be 
witched  him  and  I've  just  been  wild  to 
get  home  and  have  him  bring  me  here. 
What  a  lovely  place!  Isn't  it  wonderful, 
Phil?  .  .  .  And  is  that  the  portrait?  Oh! 
what  a  beautiful,  beautiful  woman!  " 

She  had  left  Gregg  now — before  he  had 
had  time  to  say  another  word  in  praise  of 

[135] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

her — and  was  standing  under  the  picture, 
her  eyes  gazing  into  its  depths.  Adam  kept 
perfectly  still,  completely  charmed  by  her 
dainty  joyousness.  He  felt  as  if  some  rare 
bird  had  flown  in  which  would  be  fright 
ened  away  if  he  moved  a  hair's  breadth. 
Phil  stood  apart  watching  every  expression 
that  crossed  her  happy  face.  He  had  been 
waiting  weeks  for  this  moment. 

"  You  haven't  her  eyes  or  her  hair, 
Phil,"  she  continued  without  turning  her 
head,  "  but  you  look  at  me  that  way  some 
times.  I  don't  know  what  it  is — she's 
happy,  and  she's  not  happy.  She  loved 
somebody — that's  it,  she  loved  somebody 
and  her  eyes  follow  you  so  —  they  seem 
alive — and  the  lips  as  if  they  could  speak. 

"  And  now,  Mr.  Gregg,  please  show  me 
every  one  of  these  beautiful  things."  She 
had  already,  with  her  quick  intuition,  seen 

[136] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

through  Adam's  personality  at  a  glance, 
and  found  out  how  thoroughly  she  could 
trust  him. 

He  obeyed  as  gallantly  and  as  cheerfully 
as  if  he  had  been  her  own  age,  pulling  open 
the  drawers  of  the  cabinets,  taking  out  this 
curio  and  that,  lifting  the  lid  of  the  old 
Venetian  wedding-chest  that  she  might  her 
self  pry  among  the  velvets  and  embroid 
eries;  she  dropping  on  her  knees  beside 
it  with  all  the  fluttering  joy  of  a  child  who 
had  come  suddenly  upon  a  box  of  toys; 
Phil  following  them  around  the  room  put 
ting  in  a  word  here  and  there,  reminding 
Adam  of  something  he  had  forgotten,  or 
calling  her  attention  to  some  object  hidden 
in  a  shadow  that  even  her  quick  absorbing 
glance  had  overlooked. 

Once  more  she  stopped  before  the  por 
trait,  her  eyes  drinking  in  its  beauty. 

[137] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

"  Don't  you  love  it,  Mr.  Gregg?  " 

"  Yes,  but  I'm  going  to  give  it  to  your — 
to  Philip." 

"Oh!  you  know!  do  you?  Yes,  just 
say  it  out.  We  are  going  to  be  married  just 
as  soon  as  we  can — next  October  is  the  very 
latest  date.  I  told  father  we  were  tired  of 
waiting  and  he  has  promised  me;  we  would 
have  been  married  this  spring  but  for  that 
horrid  copper  mine  that  the  deeper  you  go 
the  less  copper " 

"  Oh,  but  Madeleine,"  protested  Philip 
with  a  sudden  flush  in  his  face,  "  that  was 
some  time  ago;  everything's  all  right  now." 

"Well,  I  don't  know  much  about  it;  I 
only  repeated  what  father  said." 

And  then  having  had  her  fill  of  all  the 
pretty  things — some  she  must  go  back  to 
half  a  dozen  times  in  her  delight — espe 
cially  some  "  ducky  "  little  china  dogs  that 

[138] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

were  "just  too  sweet  for  anything";  and 
having  discussed  to  her  heart's  content  all 
the  details  of  the  coming  wedding — espe 
cially  the  part  where  Adam  was  to  walk 
close  behind  them  on  their  way  up  the  aisle 
of  the  church  as  a  sort  of  fairy  godfather 
to  give  Phil  away — the  joyous  little  bird, 
followed  by  the  happy  young  lover,  spread 
her  dainty  wings  and  flew  away. 

And  thus  it  was  that  two  new  spirits 
were  added  to  Adam  Gregg's  long  list 
of  friends:  One  the  young  man,  earnest, 
alert,  losing  no  chance  in  his  business, 
awake  to  all  the  changes  in  the  ever-shift 
ing  market,  conversant  with  every  move 
of  his  opponents  and  meeting  them 
with  a  shrewdness — and  sometimes,  Adam 
thought — with  a  cunning  far  beyond  his 
years.  The  other,  the  fresh,  outspoken, 
merry  young  girl,  fluttering  in  and  out  like 

[139] 


AN    OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

a  bird  in  her  ever-changing  plumage — now 
in  hat  loaded  with  tea  roses,  now  in  trim 
walking  costume  fitting  her  dainty  figure; 
now  in  her  water-proof,  her  wee  little  feet 
"  wringing  wet  "  she  would  tell  Adam  with 
a  laugh — always  a  welcome  guest,  no  mat 
ter  who  had  his  chair,  or  whose  portrait  or 
what  work  required  his  brush. 


[  140] 


VIII 

ONE  afternoon,  some  days  after 
Philip's  return  from  an  inspection 
of  the  mines  of  the  Portage  Copper  Com 
pany,  and  an  hour  ahead  of  his  usual  time, 
the  velvet  curtain  was  pushed  aside  and 
the  young  man  walked  in.  Not  only  did  he 
move  with  his  most  important  "  bank  di 
rector's  step,"  but  he  brought  with  him  an 
air  of  responsibility  only  seen  in  magnates 
who  control  the  destinies  of  corporations 
and  the  savings  of  their  stockholders. 

"What's  the  matter,  Phil?"  asked 
Adam  with  a  laugh.  "  Have  they  made 
you  president  of  the  Stock  Exchange,  or 
has  the  Government  turned  over  its  de- 

[141] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

posits  to  your  keeping,  or  has  the  wedding- 
day  been  set  for  to-morrow?  " 

"Wedding-day's  all  right;  closer  than 
ever,  but  I've  got  something  that  knocks 
being  president  of  the  Exchange  cold.  Our 
scheme  is  about  fixed  up  and  it's  to  be 
floated  next  week — float  anything  on  this 
market — that's  better  than  being  president 
or  anything  else.  Our  attorneys  brought 
in  the  papers  this  morning,  and  they  will 
be  signed  at  our  office  to-morrow  at  eleven- 
thirty.  The  Seaboard  Trust  Company  are 
going  to  take  half  the  bonds  and  two  out- 
of-town  banks  the  balance.  That  puts  us 
on  our  legs  and  keeps  us  there,  and  I  don't 
mind  telling  you  " — and  he  looked  around 
as  if  fearing  to  be  overheard — "  we've  got 
to  have  this  money  or —  Well,  there's  no 
use  of  my  going  into  that,  because  it's  all 
over  now,  or  will  be  when  this  loan's  float- 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

ed.  But  I  want  to  tell  you  that  we've  had 
some  pretty  tough  sledding  lately — some 
that  the  old  man  doesn't  know  about." 

Adam  looked  up;  any  danger  that 
threatened  Phil  always  enlisted  his  sym 
pathy. 

u  Tell  me  about  it.  I  can't  follow  these 
operations.  Most  of  them  are  all  Greek 


to  me." 


"  Well,  as  I  say,  we've  got  to  have 
money,  a  whole  lot  of  it,  or  there's  no  tell 
ing  when  Madeleine  and  I  will  ever  be  mar 
ried.  And  the  Portage  Company  has  got 
to  have  money ;  they  have  struck  bottom  so 
far  as  their  finances  go  and  can't  go  on 
without  help.  God  knows  I've  worked 
hard  enough  over  it — been  doing  nothing 
else  for  weeks." 

"  What  do  you  float?  "  Adam  was  pre 
pared  to  give  him  his  best  attention. 

[143] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

"  One  million  refunding  bonds — half  to 
take  up  the  old  issue  and  the  balance  for 
improvements.  Our  wedding  comes  in 
the  '  improvements/  "  and  Philip  winked 
meaningly. 

"  Is  there  enough  copper  in  the  mine  to 
warrant  the  issue?  "  Adam  asked,  recalling 
Madeleine's  remark  about  the  deeper  they 
went  the  less  copper  there  was  in  the  mine. 

"  What's  that  got  to  do  with  it?  " 

"  Everything,  I  should  think.  You  ex 
amined  it  —  didn't  you  ?  —  and  should 
know." 

"  Yes,  but  nobody  has  asked  me  for  an 
opinion.  The  company's  engineer  attends 
to  that." 

"  What  do  you  think  yourself,  Phil?  " 

"  I  don't  think.  I'm  not  paid  to  think. 
The  other  fellow  does  the  thinking  and  I 
do  the  selling." 

[  144] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

"  What  does  Mr.  Eggleston  say?  " 

"  He  doesn't  say.  He  isn't  paid  for  say 
ing.  What  he  wants  is  his  six  per  cent,  and 
that's  what  we've  got  to  earn.  This  new 
deal  earns  it." 

"  Does  the  trust  company  know  any 
thing  about  the  mine?  " 

'*  Why,  of  course,  everything.  Those 
fellows  don't  need  a  guardian.  They've 
got  the  mining  engineer's  sworn  certificate, 
and  they  trust  to  that  and " 

"  And  to  the  standing  of  your  house," 
Adam  interrupted. 

u  Certainly.  Why  not?  That's  what 
we're  in  business  for." 

"  But  what  do  you  think  of  it  —  you, 
remember;  you — Philip  Colton — are  you 
willing  to  swear  that  the  mine  is  worth 
the  money  the  trust  company  will  lend  on 
it?" 

[145] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

"I  make  an  affidavit!  Not  much! 
What  I  say  is  everybody's  property;  what 
I  think  is  nobody's  business  but  my  own. 
The  mine  may  strike  virgin  copper  in 
chunks  and  it  may  not.  That's  where  the 
gamble  comes  in.  If  it  does  the  bonus 
stock  they  get  for  nothing  will  be  worth 
par."  He  was  a  little  ashamed  as  he  said 
it.  He  was  merely  repeating  what  he  had 
told  his  customers  in  advance  of  the  issue, 
but  they  had  not  returned  his  gaze  with 
Adam's  eyes. 

"  But  you  in  your  heart,  Phil,  are  con 
vinced  that  it  will  not  strike  virgin  copper, 
aren't  you?  So  much  so  that  you  wouldn't 
take  Madeleine's  money,  or  my  money,  to 
put  into  it."  These  search-lights  of  Gregg's 
had  a  way  of  uncovering  many  secret 
places. 

Philip  turned  in  his  chair  and  looked  at 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

Adam.  What  was  the  matter  with  the 
dear  fellow  this  afternoon,  he  said  to  him 
self. 

"Certainly  not — and  for  two  reasons: 
first,  you  are  not  in  the  Street;  and  second, 
because  I  never  gamble  with  a  friend's 
money." 

"  But  you  gamble  with  the  money  of  the 
innocent  men  and  women  who  believe  in 
your  firm,  and  who  in  the  end  buy  these 
bonds  of  the  trust  company,  don't  you?  " 

"  Well,  but  what  have  we  got  to  do  with 
the  bonds  after  we  sell  them?  We  are  not 
running  the  mine,  we're  only  getting  money 
for  them  to  run  it  on,  and  incidentally  our 
commissions,"  and  he  smiled  knowingly. 
"  The  trust  company  does  the  same  thing. 
This  widow-and-orphan  business  is  about 
played  out  in  the  Street.  The  shrewdest 
buyers  we  have  are  just  these  people,  and 

EH?] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

they  get  their  cent  per  cent  every  time. 
Don't  you  bother  your  dear  old  head  over 
this  matter;  just  be  glad  it's  coming  out 
all  right — I  am,  I  tell  you !  " 

Gregg  had  risen  from  his  chair  and  was 
standing  over  Philip  with  a  troubled  look 
on  his  face. 

"  Phil,"  he  said  slowly,  "  look  at  me. 
From  what  you  tell  me,  you  can't  issue 
these  bonds!  You  can't  afford  to  do  it — 
no  honest  man  can !  " 

The  young  financier  lay  back  in  his  chair 
and  broke  out  into  laughter. 

"  Old  Gentleman,"  he  said,  as  he 
reached  up  his  hand  and  laid  it  affection 
ately  on  Gregg's  waistcoat — it  was  a  pet 
name  of  his — "  you  just  stick  to  your 
brushes  and  paints  and  I'll  stick  to  my  com 
missions.  If  everybody  in  the  Street  had 
such  old-fashioned  notions  as  you  have 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

we'd  starve  to  death.  We've  got  to  take 
risks,  everybody  has.  You  might  as  well 
say  that  when  a  stock  is  going  up  and 
against  us  we  shouldn't  cover  right  away 
to  save  ourselves  from  further  loss ;  or  that 
when  it's  going  down  we  shouldn't  sell  and 
saddle  the  other  fellow  with  the  slump 
while  we  get  from  under.  Now  I'm  go 
ing  home  to  tell  Madeleine  the  good  news; 
she's  been  on  pins  and  needles  for  a  week." 

Gregg  began  pacing  the  floor,  his  hands 
behind  his  back.  His  movements  were  so 
unusual  and  his  face  bore  so  troubled  a  look 
that  Philip,  who  had  thrown  away  his  cigar 
and  had  picked  up  his  hat  preparatory  to 
leaving  the  room,  delayed  his  departure. 

Adam  halted  in  front  of  him  and  now 
stood  gazing  into  his  face,  an  expression  on 
his  own  that  showed  the  younger  man  how 
keenly  he  had  taken  the  refusal. 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

"I  know  I'm  old-fashioned,  Phil— I 
have  a  right  to  be.  I  come  of  old-fashioned 
stock — so  do  you.  All  that  you  tell  me  of 
your  father  convinces  me  that  he  was  an 
upright  man.  He  was  severe  at  times,  and 
dominating,  but  he  was  honest.  Your 
mother's  purity  and  goodness  shine  out 
here,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  portrait. 
'  This  is  your  heritage,  and  your  only  heri 
tage — something  that  millions  of  money 
cannot  buy,  and  which  you  cannot  sell,  no 
matter  what  price  is  paid  you  for  it.  You, 
their  son  " — Gregg  stopped  and  hesitated, 
the  words  seemed  to  clog  in  his  throat — 
"  must  not — shall  not  \ "  (the  way  was  clear 
now)  "  commit  a  crime  which  would  bring  a 
blush  to  their  cheeks  if  they  were  alive  to 
day.  Don't,  I  beseech  you,  my  boy,  lend 
your  young  manhood  to  this  swindle.  It 
is  infamous,  it  is  damnable.  It  shall  not — 
[150] 


"Promise  me  that  you  will  stop  the  whole  business." 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

cannot  be.    You  love  me  too  well  to  refuse; 
promise  me  you  will  stop  this  whole  busi 


ness." 


Colton  was  astounded.  In  all  his  inter 
course  with  Gregg  he  had  never  seen  him 
moved  like  this.  He  knew  what  had  caused 
it.  Gregg's  sedentary  life,  his  being  so 
much  away  from  the  business  side  of  things 
had  warped  his  judgment  and  upset  his 
reasoning  powers.  Not  to  make  commis 
sions  on  a  loan  that  the  first  mining  expert 
in  the  country  had  declared  good,  and 
which  the  biggest  trust  company  in  the 
Street  and  two  outside  banks  were  willing 
to  underwrite!  Gregg  was  crazy!  This 
came  of  talking  business  to  such  a  man. 
He  should  have  confined  himself  to  more 
restful  topics — topics  which  he  really  loved 
best.  After  all,  it  was  his  fault,  not 
Adam's. 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

"  All  right,  old  fellow ;  don't  let  us  talk 
any  more  about  it,"  he  said  in  the  tone  he 
would  have  used  to  pacify  a  woman  who 
had  lost  her  temper.  "  Some  other  time 
when " 

Adam  resumed  his  walk  without  listen 
ing  further.  He  saw  how  futile  had  been 
his  appeal  and  the  thought  alarmed  him  all 
the  more. 

"  Put  down  your  hat,  Phil."  The  calm 
ness  of  his  voice  was  singularly  in  contrast 
to  the  tone  of  the  outburst.  "  Take  your 
seat  again.  Wait  until  I  lock  the  door.  I 
have  something  to  say  to  you  and  we  must 
not  be  interrupted." 

He  turned  the  key,  drew  the  heavy  cur 
tains  together,  and  dragging  his  chair  op 
posite  Phil's  so  that  he  could  look  squarely 
in  his  eyes,  sat  down  in  front  of  him. 

"  My  son,"  he  began,  "  I  am  going  to 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

tell  you  something  which  has  been  locked 
in  my  own  heart  ever  since  you  were  a  boy 
of  five.  Something  I  have  never  told  you 
before  because  it  only  brought  sorrow  and 
suffering  to  me,  and  I  wanted  only  the 
sunny  side  of  life  for  you  and  Madeleine, 
and  so  I  have  kept  still.  I  tell  you  now  in 
the  hope  that  it  may  save  you  from  an  act 
you  will  never  cease  to  regret. 

;<  There  comes  a  time  in  every  man's  life 
when  he  meets  the  fork  in  the  road.  This 
is  his  crisis.  One  path  leads  to  destruction, 
the  other,  perhaps,  to  misery — but  a  misery 
in  which  he  can  still  look  every  man  in 
the  face  and  his  God  as  well.  You  have 
reached  it.  You  may  not  think  so,  but  you 
have.  Carry  out  what  you  have  told  me 
and  you  are  no  longer  an  honest  man. 
Don't  be  offended.  Listen  and  don't  in 
terrupt  me.  Nothing  you  could  say  to  me 

[153] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

would  hurt  my  heart;  nothing  I  shall  say 
to  you  should  hurt  yours.  I  love  you  with 
a  love  you  know  not  of.  I  loved  you  when 
you  were  no  higher  than  my  knee." 

Phil  looked  at  him  in  amazement,  and 
was  about  to  speak  when  Adam  waved  his 
hand. 

"  No,  don't  speak.  Hear  me  until  I 
have  finished.  Only  to  save  the  boy  she 
loved  would  I  lay  bare  my  heart  as  I  am 
going  to  do  to  you  now.  Turn  your  head ! 
Do  you  see  that  picture?  I  painted  it  some 
twenty-five  years  ago;  you  were  a  child 
then,  five  years  old.  I  was  younger  than 
you  are  now;  full  of  my  art;  full  of  the 
promise  of  life.  Your  father's  home  was 
a  revelation  to  me:  the  comfort  of  it,  the 
servants,  the  luxury,  the  warm  welcome  he 
gave  me,  the  way  he  treated  me,  not  as  a 
stranger,  but  as  a  son.  A  few  days  after 

[154] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

I  arrived  he  left  me  in  charge  of  his  home. 
Your  mother  was  three  years  younger  than 
I  was;  you  were  a  little  fellow  tugging  at 
her  skirts. 

"  The  four  weeks  .hat  followed,  while 
your  father  was  away  and  I  was  painting 
the  portrait,  were  to  me  a  dream.  At  the 
end  of  it  I  awoke  in  torment.  I  had 
reached  the  fork  in  my  road:  one  path  lay 
to  perdition,  the  other  to  a  suffering  that 
has  followed  me  all  my  life.  Your  father 
was  an  austere  man  of  about  my  own  age 
now;  it  was  not  a  happy  union — it  was 
as  if  Madeleine  and  I  should  be  mar 
ried.  Your  mother,  girl  as  she  was,  re 
spected  and  honored  him  and  had  no  other 
thought  except  her  duty ;  I  saw  it  and  tried 
to  comfort  her.  The  day  of  your  father's 
return  home  he  came  up  into  the  garret 
which  had  been  turned  into  a  studio  to 

[155] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

see  the  portrait.  The  scene  that  followed 
has  always  been  to  me  a  horror.  He  de 
nounced  her  and  me.  He  even  went  so  far 
as  to  say  the  picture  was  immodest  because 
of  the  gown,  and  in  his  anger  turned  it  to 
the  wall.  You  can  see  for  yourself  how 
unjust  was  that  criticism.  He  found  out 
he  was  wrong  and  said  so  afterward,  but 
it  did  not  heal  the  wound.  Your  mother 
was  crushed  and  outraged. 

'  That  night  she  came  up  to  the  studio 
and  poured  out  her  heart  to  me.  I  won't 
go  over  it — I  cannot.  There  was  in  her 
eyes  something  that  frightened  me.  Then 
my  own  were  opened.  Down  in  front  of 
me  lay  an  abyss;  around  it  were  the  two 
paths.  All  night  I  paced  the  floor;  I  laid 
my  soul  bare;  I  pleaded;  I  argued  with 
myself.  I  reasoned  it  out  with  God;  I 
urged  her  unhappiness — the  difference  in 

[156] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

their  ages;  the  harshness  of  the  older  man; 
her  patient  submission.  Then  there  rose 
up  before  me  the  sterner  law — my  own  re 
sponsibility;  the  trust  placed  in  my  hands; 
her  youth,  my  youth.  Gradually  the  mist 
in  my  mind  cleared  and  I  saw  the  path 
ahead.  There  was  but  one  road:  that  I 
must  take ! 

"  When  the  dawn  broke  I  lifted  the  por 
trait  from  where  your  father  had  placed 
it  with  its  face  against  the  wall;  kissed  it 
with  all  the  reverence  a  boy's  soul  could 
have  for  his  ideal,  crept  down  the  stairs, 
saddled  my  horse  and  rode  away. 

"  Ten  years  later — after  your  father's 
death — I  again  went  to  Derwood  Manor — 
in  the  autumn — in  November.  I  wanted 
to  look  into  her  face  once  more — even  be 
fore  I  looked  into  my  own  father's — to  see 
the  brook  we  loved,  the  hills  we  wandered 

[157] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

over,  the  porch  where  we  sat  and  talked. 
I  had  heard  nothing  of  the  house  being  in 
ruins,  or  of  your  mother's  death.  Every 
thing  was  gone !  Everything — every 
thing!  " 

Adam  rested  his  head  in  his  hands,  his 
fingers  shielding  his  eyes.  Philip  sat  look 
ing  at  him  in  silence,  his  face  torn  with 
conflicting  emotions — astonishment,  sympa 
thy,  an  intense  love  for  the  man  predomi 
nating.  Adam  continued,  the  words  com 
ing  in  half-muffled  tones,  from  behind  his 
hands,  as  if  he  were  talking  to  himself,  with 
now  and  then  a  pause. 

"  You  wonder,  Phil,  why  I  live  alone 
this  way — you  often  ask  me  that  question. 
Do  you  know  why?  It  is  because  I  have 
never  been  able  to  love  any  other  woman. 
She  set  a  standard  for  me  that  no  other 
woman  has  ever  filled.  All  my  young  life 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 


was  bound  up  in  her  long  after  I  left  her. 
For  years  I  thought  of  nothing  else;  my 
only  hope  was  in  keeping  away.  I  would 
not  be  responsible  for  myself  or  for  her 
if  we  ever  met  again.  She  wasn't  mine; 
she  was  your  father's.  She  couldn't  be 
mine  as  long  as  he  was  alive." 

He  raised  his  head  and  resumed  his  old 
position,  his  voice  rising,  his  earnest,  deter 
mined  manner  dominating  his  words. 

"  I  ask  you  now,  Phil,  what  would  have 
become  of  you  if  I  had  left  that  stain  upon 
his  name  and  upon  yours?  Who  brought 
me  to  myself?  She  did!  How?  By  her 
confidence  in  me ;  that  gave  me  my  strength. 
I  knew  that  night,  as  well  as  I  know  that 
I  am  sitting  here,  that  we  could  not  go 
on  the  way  we  had  been  going  with  safety. 
I  knew  also  that  it  all  rested  with  me. 
For  me  to  unsettle  her  love  for  your 

[159] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

father  during  his  lifetime  would  have  been 
damnable.  Only  one  thing  was  left — 
flight —  That  I  took  and  that  you  must 
take.  Turn  your  eyes,  Phil,  and  look  at 
her.  She  saved  me  from  myself;  she  will 
save  you  from  yourself.  Do  you  suppose 
that  anything  but  purity,  goodness,  and 
truth  ever  came  from  out  those  lips?  Do 
you  think  she  would  be  satisfied  with  any 
thing  else  in  her  boy?  Be  a  man,  my  son! 
Strangle  this  temptation  that  threatens  to 
stain  your  soul.  No  matter  what  comes — 
even  if  you  beg  your  bread — put  this  thing 
under  your  feet.  Look  your  God  in  the 
face!" 

During  the  long  recital  Phil's  mind  had 
gone  back  to  his  childhood's  days  in  con 
firmation  of  the  strange  story.  As  Adam 
talked  on,  his  eyes  flashing,  his  voice  trem 
ulous  with  the  pathos  of  the  story  he  was 
[160] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

pouring  into  the  young  man's  astonished 
ears,  one  picture  after  another  rose  dimly 
out  of  the  listener's  past:  The  big  lounge 
in  the  garret  where  his  mother  held  him  in 
her  arms;  the  high  window  with  the  light 
flooding  the  floor  of  the  room;  the  jar  of 
blossoms  into  which  he  had  thrust  his  little 
face. 

He  did  not  move  when  Adam  finished, 
nor  for  some  minutes  did  he  speak.  At  last 
he  said  in  a  voice  that  showed  how  deeply 
he  had  been  stirred: 

"  It's  all  true.  It  all  comes  back  to  me 
now.  I  must  have  been  too  young  to  re 
member  you,  but  I  remember  the  picture. 
I  looked  for  it  everywhere  after  she  died, 
but  I  couldn't  find  it.  Then  came  the  fire 
and  everything  was  swept  away.  Some  one 
must  have  stolen  it  while  we  were  in  Bal 
timore.  And  you  have  loved  my  mother 
[161] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

all    these    years,    Gregg,    and   never   told 
me?" 

He  was  on  his  feet  now  and  had  his 
arm  around  Adam's  shoulder.  "  Couldn't 
you  trust  me,  Old  Gentleman?  Don't  you 
know  how  close  you  are  to  me?  Did  you 
think  I  wouldn't  understand?  What  you 
tell  me  about  your  leaving  her  is  no  sur 
prise.  You  wouldn't  —  you  couldn't  do 
anything  else.  That's  because  you  are  a 
man  and  a  gentleman.  You  are  doing  such 
things  every  day  of  your  life;  that's  why 
everybody  loves  you.  As  to  what  you 
want  me  to  do,  don't  say  any  more  to 
me  " — the  tears  he  was  hiding  were  chok 
ing  him.  "  Let  me  go  home.  What  you 
have  told  me  of  my  mother,  of  yourself 
— everything  has  knocked  me  out.  My 
judgment  has  gone  —  I  must  think  it  all 
over.  I  know  every  word  you  have  said 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

about  the  loan  is  true;  but  I  haven't  told 
you  all.  The  situation  is  worse  than  you 
think.  Everything  depends  on  it — Mad 
eleine — her  father — all  of  us.  If  I  could 
have  found  some  other  plan — if  you  had 
only  talked  to  me  this  way  before.  But 
I've  promised  them  all — they  expect  it. 
No!  Don't  speak  to  me.  Don't  say  an 
other  word.  Let  me  go  home."  And  he 
flung  himself  from  the  room. 

Adam  sat  still.  The  confession  had 
wrung  his  soul;  the  pain  seemed  unbear 
able.  What  the  outcome  would  be  God 
only  knew.  With  a  quick  movement,  as 
if  seeking  relief,  he  rose  to  his  feet  and 
walked  to  the  portrait.  Then  lifting  his 
hands  above  his  head  with  the  movement 
of  a  despairing  suppliant  before  the  Ma 
donna  he  cried  out: 

u  Help  him,  my  beloved.  Help  him  as 
you  did  me." 


IX 

AT  the  offices  of  Philip  Colton  &  Co., 
just  off  Wall  Street,  an  unusual  stir 
was  apparent — an  air  of  expectancy  seemed 
to  pervade  everything.  The  cashier  had 
arrived  at  his  desk  half  an  hour  earlier  than 
usual,  and  so  had  the  stock  clerk  and  the 
two  book-keepers.  This  had  been  in  ac 
cordance  with  Mr.  Colton's  instructions  the 
night  before,  and  they  had  been  carried  out 
to  the  minute.  The  papers  in  the  big  cop 
per  loan,  he  had  told  the  stock  clerk,  were 
to  be  signed  at  half-past  eleven  o'clock  the 
next  morning,  and  he  wanted  all  the  busi 
ness  of  the  preceding  day  cleaned  up  and 
out  of  the  way  before  the  new  deal  went 
through.  This  accomplished,  he  said  to 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

himself,  Mr.  Eggleston  would  be  able  to 
retire  a  part  if  not  all  of  his  special  capi 
tal,  and  his  dear  Madeleine,  to  quote  a 
morning  journal,  find  a  place  by  the  side  of 
"  one  of  the  bright  young  financiers  of  our 


time." 


Mr.  Eggleston,  in  tan-colored  waist 
coat,  white  gaiters  and  shiny  silk  hat,  a 
gold-headed  cane  in  one  hand — the  em 
bodiment  of  a  prosperous  man  of  affairs — 
also  arrived  half  an  hour  earlier  —  ten 
o'clock,  really,  an  event  that  caused  some 
astonishment,  for  not  twice  in  the  whole 
year  had  the  special  partner  reached  his 
son's  office  so  early  in  the  day. 

Young  Eggleston  reached  his  desk  a  few 
minutes  after  his  father.  His  dress  was  as 
costly  as  his  progenitor's,  but  a  trifle  more 
insistent.  The  waistcoat  was  speckled  with 
red;  the  scarf  a  brilliant  scarlet  decorated 

[165] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

with  a  horseshoe  set  in  diamonds,  and  the 
shoes  patent  leather.  He  was  one  size 
smaller  than  his  father  and  had  one-tenth 
of  his  brains.  With  regard  to  every  other 
measurement,  however,  there  was  not  the 
slightest  doubt  but  that  in  a  few  years  he 
would  equal  his  distinguished  father's  out 
lines,  a  fact  already  discernible  in  his  mid 
dle  distance.  In  looking  around  for  the 
missing  nine-tenths  of  gray  matter  his 
father  had  found  it  under  Philip  Colton's 
hat,  and  the  formation  of  the  firm,  with 
himself  as  special  and  his  son  as  junior, 
had  been  the  result. 

At  half  past  ten  Mr.  Eggleston  began 
to  be  nervous.  Every  now  and  then  he 
would  walk  out  into  the  main  office,  inter 
view  one  of  the  clerks  as  to  his  knowledge 
of  Phil's  whereabouts  and  return  again  to 
his  private  office,  where  he  occupied  him- 
[166] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

self  drumming  on  the  desk  with  the  end  of 
his  gold  pencil,  and  watching  the  clock. 
The  junior  had  no  such  misgivings — none 
of  any  kind.  He  had  a  game  of  polo  that 
afternoon  at  three,  and  was  chiefly  con 
cerned  lest  the  day's  work  might  intervene. 
The  signing  of  similar  papers  had  once 
kept  him  at  the  office  until  five. 

At  eleven  o'clock  a  messenger  with  a 
bank-book  fastened  to  his  waist  by  a  steel 
chain,  brought  a  message.  "  The  treas 
urer  of  the  Seaboard,  with  the  company's 
attorney,  would  be  at  Mr.  Eggleston's  of 
fice,"  the  message  read,  "  in  half  an  hour, 
to  sign  the  papers.  Would  he  be  sure  to 
have  Mr.  Philip  Colton  present."  (The 
special's  social  and  financial  position  earned 
him  this  courtesy;  most  of  the  other  mag 
nates  had  to  go  to  the  trust  company  to 
culminate  such  transactions.) 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

The  character  of  the  message  and  Phil 
ip's  continued  delay  only  increased  Mr. 
Eggleston's  uneasiness.  The  stock  clerk 
was  called  in,  as  well  as  one  of  the  book 
keepers.  "  What  word,  if  any,  had  Mr. 
Colton  given  the  night  before?  "  he  asked 
impatiently.  "  What  hour  did  he  leave  the 
office?  Did  any  one  know  of  any  business 
which  could  have  detained  him?  had  any 
telegram  been  received  and  mislaid?  " — 
the  sum  of  the  replies  being  that  neither 
word,  letter  nor  telegram  had  been  re 
ceived,  to  which  was  added  the  proffered 
information  that  judging  from  Mr.  Col- 
ton's  instructions  the  night  before  that  gen 
tleman  must  certainly  be  ill  or  he  would 
have  "  showed  up  "  before  this. 

A  few  minutes  before  half  past  eleven 
the  treasurer  and  his  attorney  were  shown 
into  the  firm's  office,  the  former  a  man  of 
[168] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

sixty,  with  a  cold,  smooth-shaven  face,  fer 
ret  eyes  and  thin,  straight  lips,  thin  as  the 
edges  of  a  tight-shut  clam,  and  as  bloodless. 
He  was  dressed  in  black  and  wore  a  white 
necktie  which  gave  him  a  certain  ministerial 
air.  His  companion,  the  attorney,  was 
younger  and  warmer  looking,  and  a  trifle 
stouter,  with  bushy  gray  locks  under  his 
hat  brim,  and  bushy  gray  side-whiskers  un 
der  two  red  ears  that  lay  flat  against  his 
head.  He  was  anything  but  ministerial, 
either  in  deportment  or  language.  What  he 
didn't  know  about  corporation  law  wouldn't 
have  been  of  the  slightest  value  to  any 
body — not  even  to  a  would-be  attorney 
passing  an  examination.  Both  men  were 
short  in  their  speech  and  incisively  polite, 
with  a  quick  step-in  and  step-out  air  about 
them  which  showed  how  thoroughly  they 
had  been  trained  in  the  school  of  Street 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

courtesy — the  wasting  of  a  minute  of  each 
other's  valuable  time  being  the  unpardon 
able  sin. 

u  Glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Eggleston,"  ex 
claimed  the  treasurer,  with  one  finger  ex 
tended,  into  which  the  special  hooked  his 
own.  The  official  did  not  see  the  junior 
partner;  he  dealt  only  with  principals. 

"  Our  attorney,"  he  continued,  nodding 
to  his  companion,  "  has  got  the  papers. 
Are  you  all  ready?  Where  is  Mr.  Col- 
ton?  "  and  he  looked  around. 

"  I'm  expecting  him  every  minute,"  re 
plied  the  special  in  a  nervous  tone;  "but 
we  can  get  along  without  him.  My  son  is 
here  to  sign  for  the  firm." 

"  No,  we  can't  get  along.  I  want  him. 
I  have  some  questions  to  ask  him ;  these  are 
President  Stockton's  directions." 

Before  Eggleston  could  reply  the  door 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

of  the  private  office  was  thrust  open  and 
Philip  stepped  in. 

Mr.  Eggleston  sprang  from  his  chair, 
and  a  combination  smile  showing  urban 
ity,  apology,  and  contentment,  now  that 
Phil  had  arrived,  overspread  his  feat 
ures. 

'  We  had  begun  to  think  you  were  ill, 
Colton,"  he  said  in  a  relieved  tone.  "  Any 
thing  the  matter?  " 

"  No,  I  stopped  to  see  Mr.  Gregg.  I 
am  on  time,  I  believe,  gentlemen,  half  past 
eleven,  wasn't  it?  "  and  he  consulted  his 
watch.  There  was  a  peculiar  tremor  in 
Phil's  voice  that  made  his  prospective 
father-in-law  fasten  his  eyes  upon  him  as 
if  to  learn  the  cause.  Colton  looked  as  if 
he  had  been  awake  all  night;  he  was  pale, 
but  otherwise  he  was  himself. 

"  Yes,    you    are    on    the    minute,"    ex- 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

claimed  the  treasurer,  picking  up  the  bun 
dle  of  papers  and  loosening  the  tape  that 
bound  them  together.  "  You  have  just  re 
turned  from  the  property,  we  hear.  What 
do  you  think  of  it?  " 

'  We  have  the  certificate  of  the  mining 
engineer,"  interrupted  Mr.  Eggleston  in  a 
bland  tone,  regaining  his  seat. 

"  Yes,  I  have  it  here,"  the  treasurer  an 
swered,  tapping  the  bundle  of  papers.  "  It 
is  your  personal  opinion,  Mr.  Colton,  that 
we  want.  The  president  insists  upon  this; 
he  has  a  reason  for  it." 

Colton  stepped  nearer  and  looked  the 
treasurer  square  in  the  eyes. 

"  My  personal  opinion,  sir,"  he  an 
swered  in  clear-cut  tones,  "  is  that  the  de 
posit  is  practically  exhausted.  I  came  here 
to  tell  you  so.  The  engineer's  report  is, 
I  think,  too  highly  colored." 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

Both  father  and  son  started  forward  in 
their  chairs,  their  eyes  glaring  at  Philip. 
They  could  hardly  believe  their  senses. 

"What!"  burst  out  Mr.  Eggleston — 
"  you  don't  mean  to  say  that " 

"  One  moment,  please,"  interrupted  the 
treasurer,  with  an  impatient  wave  of  his 
hand  toward  Eggleston:  "  Do  you  think, 
Mr.  Colton,  that  the  issue  had  better  be 
deferred?" 

"  I  do.  Certainly  until  the  mine  makes 
a  better  showing." 

Again  Mr.  Eggleston  tried  to  interrupt 
and  again  he  was  waved  into  silence. 

"  When  did  you  arrive  at  this  conclu 
sion?" 

"  This  morning.  I  thought  differently 
yesterday,  but  I  have  changed  my  mind.  So 
much  so  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  me 
to  go  on  with  this  loan." 

[173] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

"  Shall  I  take  that  message  to  the  presi 
dent?  " 

"  Yes.  If  I  have  any  cause  to  change 
my  opinion  I'll  let  him  know.  But  it  is 
not  likely  I  will — I'm  sorry  to  have  given 
you  all  this  trouble." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  trust  company's 
representative,  rising  from  his  chair  and 
extending  his  hand  to  Philip.  "  I  might 
as  well  tell  you  that  we  have  heard 
similar  reports  and  our  president  felt  sure 
that  you  would  give  him  the  facts.  He  has 
great  confidence  in  you,  Mr.  Colton.  If 
he  authorizes  me  to  sign  the  papers  after 
what  you  have  said  to  me  I'll  be  back  here 
in  a  few  moments.  Good-day,  sir!  "  and 
with  a  grim  smile  lighting  his  face,  the 
treasurer  nodded  himself  out. 

Eggleston  waited  until  the  trust  com 
pany's  attorney  had  gathered  up  his  papers 

[174] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

and  had  closed  the  door  behind  him — 
a  mere  matter  of  routine  with  him ;  almost 
every  day  a  transaction  of  this  kind  was 
either  deferred  or  culminated — then  he 
swung  himself  around  in  his  revolving 
chair,  his  cheeks  purple  with  rage,  and 
faced  Philip. 

"Well,  sir!  what  do  you  think  of  the 
mess  you've  made  of  this  morning's  busi 
ness  !  Do  you  for  one  instant  suppose  that 
Stockton  will  go  on  with  this  deal  after 
what  you  have  told  him?  " 

"  If  he  did,  sir,  it  would  not  be  with  my 
consent,"  answered  Philip  coldly. 

'  Your  consent!  Your  consent!  What 
do  you  know  about  it?  Did  you  ever  mine 
a  pound  of  copper  in  your  life?  Did  you 
ever  see  a  pound  mined  until  you  made  this 
last  trip  ?  And  yet  you  have  the  effrontery 
to  set  yourself  up  as  an  expert  against  one 

[175] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

of  the  best  men  in  his  profession !  Do  you 
not  know  that  you  have  made  not  only  the 
firm  but  me  ridiculous,  by  your  stupid 
vacillation — and  with  the  Seaboard,  of  all 
trust  companies !  Why  didn't  you  find  out 
all  this  before  you  brought  these  people 
down  here?  " 

"  It  is  never  too  late  to  be  honest,  sir." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that !  "  snapped 
Eggleston. 

"  I  mean  just  what  I  say."  Philip's 
voice  was  without  a  tremor,  low,  forceful 
and  decisive.  "  The  floating  of  these  bonds 
on  the  present  condition  of  the  mines  would 
have  been  a  fraud.  I  didn't  see  it  in  that 
way  at  first,  but  I  do  see  it  now.  It  is  done 
every  day  in  the  Street,  I  grant  you,  but 
it  will  never  be  done  again  with  my  consent 
so  long  as  I  am  a  member  of  this  firm !  " 

Eggleston's  lip  curled.  "  You  seem  to 
[176] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

have  grown  singularly  honest  overnight, 
Mr.  Colton,"  he  sneered.  "  According  to 
your  ideas  Bates,  Rankin  &  Co.  were 
frauds  when  they  floated  the  Imperial,  and 
so  were  Porter  &  King  when  they  sold  out 
the  Morningside  for  two  millions  of  dol 
lars." 

"  None  of  them  are  paying,  sir,  and  it 
was  dishonorable  to  float  the  bonds."  He 
was  still  on  his  feet,  facing  his  prospective 
father-in-law,  holding  him  at  bay  really. 

"  What's  that  got  to  do  with  it?" 
snarled  Eggleston.  "  They  will  pay  some 
time.  As  to  your  honor  1  That's  the  cheap 
sentiment  you  Southern  men  are  always 
shouting.  Your  kind  of  honor  won't  hold 
water  here !  It  was  your  honor  when  you 
tried  to  hold  on  to  your  niggers;  and  it's 
your  honor  when  you  murder  each  other 

in  duels,  and " 

[  177] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

"Stop,  Mr.  Eggleston!"  said  Philip, 
his  face  white  as  chalk,  every  muscle  in  his 
body  taut — "  this  has  gone  far  enough. 
No  position  that  you  hold  toward  me  gives 
you  the  right  to  speak  as  you  have.  I  have 
done  what  was  right.  I  could  not  have 
looked  either  you  or  Madeleine  in  the  face 
if  I  had  done  differently." 

Here  the  door  was  swung  back,  cutting 
short  Eggleston's  reply,  and  a  note  was 
passed  in,  the  clerk  making  a  hurried  in 
spection  of  the  faces  of  his  employers,  as 
if  to  learn  the  cause  of  the  disturbance. 

Eggleston  read  it  and  handed  it  to  his 
son,  who  so  far  had  not  opened  his  mouth. 
He  could  reach  the  game  in  time,  anyhow. 

"  Just  as  I  expected!  "  hissed  Eggleston 
between  his  teeth:  u  '  Must  decline  the 
loan,'  he  says.  *  Thank  Mr.  Colton  for  his 
frankness.  Stockton,  President/  Thanks 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

Mr.  Colton,  does  he!  If  you  want  my 
opinion  I'll  tell  you  that  by  your  con 
founded  backing  and  filling  you've  thrown 
over  the  best  operation  we've  had  since  this 
firm  was  formed.  Find  the  money  some 
where  else,  Mr.  Colton,  that  I've  put  in, 
and  I'll  draw  out.  This  morning's  work 
convinces  me  that  no  sensible  man's  in 
terests  are  safe  in  your  hands." 

"  That  will  be  difficult,  sir,  when  the 
condition  of  our  firm  is  known,  as  it  must 
be.  Furthermore,  it  would  be  impossible 
for  me  to  ask  it.  Since  I've  been  here  I've 
done  my  best  to  look  after  your  interests. 
Some  of  our  ventures,  I  regret  to  say, 
have  been  unsuccessful.  Instead  of  releas 
ing  your  capital  I  shall  need  some  fifty 
thousand  dollars  more  to  carry  us  through. 
The  situation  is  upon  us  and  I  might  as 
well  discuss  it  with  you  now." 

[179] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

"  We  don't  owe  a  dollar  we  can't  pay," 
blurted  out  Eggleston,  picking  up  his  hat 
and  cane. 

"  That  is  true  to-day,  but  to-morrow  it 
may  not  be.  The  refusal  of  this  loan  by 
the  Seaboard  will  send  back  to  us  every 
copper  stock  we  have  borrowed  money  on. 
They  are  good,  better  than  Portage,  but 
the  banks  won't  believe  it.  I  want  this  ad 
ditional  money  to  tide  this  over." 

"  You  won't  get  a  dollar !  " 

"  Then  I'll  notify  the  Exchange  of  our 
suspension  at  once.  If  we  stop  now  we  can 
carry  out  your  statement  and  pay  every 
dollar  we  owe.  If  we  keep  on  with  the 
market  as  it  is  we  may  not  pay  fifty  cents. 
Which  will  you  do?" 

"  Not  a  dime,  sir  1  Not  a  cent  1  Do  you 
hear  me — not  one  cent !  You  two  fools  can 
work  it  out  to  suit  yourselves.  I'm  through 
[180] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

with  you  both !  "  and  he  slammed  the  door 
behind  him. 

The  boys  were  already  crying  the  news 
of  the  downfall  of  his  house  when,  late 
that  afternoon,  Philip  pushed  aside  the  vel 
vet  curtain  and  stepped  into  Adam's  studio. 
He  had  bought  an  extra  on  his  way  uptown 
and  held  it  in  his  hand.  "  Failure  in  Wall 
Street!  Philip  Colton  &  Co.  suspend!'* 
the  head-lines  read. 

"  It's  all  over,  Gregg,"  he  said,  drop 
ping  into  a  chair,  without  even  offering  the 
painter  his  hand. 

"  And  he  refused  to  help !  "  exclaimed 
Adam. 

'  Yes,  not  a  cent !     There  was  nothing 

else  to  do.     We  can  pay  every  dollar  we 

owe,  but  it  leaves  me  stranded.    Madeleine 

is  the  worst  part  of  it.     I  did  not  think 

[181] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

she'd  go  back  on  me.  They  are  furious  at 
her  house.  I  stopped  there,  but  she 
wouldn't  see  me — nobody  would.  She's 
wrong,  and  when  she  gets  the  truth  she'll 
think  differently,  but  it's  pretty  hard  while 
it  lasts." 

Adam  laid  his  hand  on  Phil's  shoulder 
and  looked  steadily  into  his  face. 

"Do  you  regret  it,  Phil?"  The  old 
search-lights  were  sweeping  right  and  left 
again. 

"  Yes,  all  the  trouble  it  brings  and  the 
injury  to  the  firm  and  to  Mr.  Eggleston, 
for  I  don't  forget  he's  my  partner.  I 
didn't  think  it  would  end  in  ruin.  I  bun 
gled  it  badly,  maybe." 

u  Are  you  sorry?  " 

"  No,  I'd  do  it  over  again !  "  answered 
Philip  firmly,  as  he  glanced  at  the  portrait. 

Gregg  tightened  his  grasp  on  Philip's 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

shoulder.  "  That's  the  true  ring,  my  son !  " 
he  cried,  his  eyes  filling  with  tears.  u  I've 
never  loved  you  as  I  do  this  minute.  Now 
you  begin  to  live.  This  day  marks  the  part 
ing  of  the  roads:  From  this  day  you  go 
forward,  not  back.  It  doesn't  make  any 
difference  what  happens  or  what  things 
you " 

"  And  you  don't  think  Madeleine 
will " 

"  Think  Madeleine  will  lose  her  love  for 
you !  You  don't  know  the  girl — not  for 
one  minute.  Of  course,  everything  is  up 
side  down,  and  of  course  there'll  be  bad 
blood.  Mr.  Eggleston  is  angry,  but  he'll 
get  over  it.  What  he  has  lost  to-day  he  has 
made  a  dozen  times  over  in  his  career  in 
a  single  turn  in  stocks,  and  will  again. 
Keep  your  head  up !  Finish  your  work  at 
the  office;  pay  every  cent  you  owe;  come 
[183] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

back  here  and  let  me  know  if  anything  is 
left,  and  then  we'll  see  Madeleine.  You'll 
find  my  check-book  in  that  desk  at  your  el 
bow.  I'll  sign  as  many  checks  in  blank 
as  you  want  and  you  can  fill  them  up  at 
your  leisure.  We'll  fight  this  thing  out 
together  and  we'll  win.  Madeleine  stop 
loving  you!  I'll  stake  my  head  she 
won't!" 

Events  move  with  great  rapidity  in  the 
Street.  When  a  tin  case  the  size  of  a 
candle-box  can  be  brought  in  by  two  men 
and  a  million  of  property  dumped  out  on  a 
table,  an  immediate  accounting  of  assets  is 
not  difficult.  Once  their  value  is  fixed  by 
the  referee  they  can  be  dealt  to  those  in 
terested  as  easily  as  a  pack  of  cards. 

By  noon  of  the  following  day  not  only 
did  the  firm  of  Philip  Colton  &  Co.  know 
[184] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

exactly  where  they  stood,  but  so  did  every 
one  of  the  firm's  creditors:  Seventy  per 
cent  cash  and  thirty  per  cent  in  sixty  days 
was  the  settlement.  All  their  outside  stocks 
had  been  closed  out  under  the  rule.  Phil 
ip's  thorough  business  methods  and  the  sim 
plicity  and  clearness  with  which  his  books 
had  been  kept  made  such  an  adjustment 
not  only  possible,  but  easy.  The  net  result 
was  the  wiping  out  of  the  special  capital  of 
Philip's  prospective  father-in-law  and  all 
of  his  own  capital  and  earnings.  The 
junior  partner  was  not  affected;  his  allow 
ance  went  on  as  usual.  He  did  not  even 
sell  his  stud ;  he  bought  another  pony.  His 
father  gave  him  the  money;  it  helped  the 
family  credit. 

So  far  not  a  word  had  come  from  Made 
leine.     Philip  had  rung  the  bell  of  the  Eg- 
gleston  mansion  three  times  since  that  fatal 
[185] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

morning  and  had  been  told  by  the  butler  in 
frigid  tones  that  Miss  Eggleston  "  was  not 
at  home."  None  of  his  notes  were  an 
swered.  That  so  sensible  a  girl  as  Made 
leine,  one  whose  whole  nature  was  frank 
ness  and  love,  could  be  so  cruel  and  so 
unjust  was  a  disappointment  more  bitter 
than  the  failure. 

"  She  has  been  lied  to  by  somebody," 
broke  out  Philip  as  he  paced  up  and  down 
Adam's  studio,  "  or  she  is  locked  up  where 
nothing  can  reach  her.  All  my  notes  come 
back  unopened;  the  last  redirected  by  Mr. 
Eggleston  himself.  Neither  he  nor  his  son 
has  been  to  the  office  since  the  settlement. 
They  leave  me  to  sweep  up  after  them 
— dirty  piece  of  business.  Will  there 
be  any  use  in  your  seeing  Mr.  Eggle 
ston?" 

Adam  looked  into  space  for  a  moment. 
[186] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

He  had  never  met  the  senior.  He  had, 
out  of  deference  to  Phil,  and  contrary  to 
his  habitual  custom,  given  him  preference 
over  his  other  sitters,  but  Eggleston  had 
not  kept  his  appointment  and  Gregg  had 
postponed  the  painting  of  the  portrait  un 
til  the  following  season.  Phil  had  made 
excuses,  but  Adam  had  only  smiled  and 
with  the  remark — "  Time  enough  next 
winter,"  had  changed  the  subject. 

"  No.  Let  a  young  girl  manage  her  own 
affairs,"  Adam  answered  in  a  decided  tone, 
"  especially  a  girl  like  Madeleine."  He 
had  seen  too  much  misery  from  interfering 
with  a  young  girl's  heart. 

;<  What  do  you  advise  then?  " 

*  To  let  the  storm  blow  over,"  Adam 
replied  firmly. 

"  But  youVe  said  that  for  a  week  and  I 
am  no  better  off.  I  can't  stand  it  much 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

longer,  Old  Gentleman.  I  must  see  Made 
leine,  I  tell  you.  What  can  you  do  to 
help?  Now  —  not  to-morrow  or  next 
week?" 

"  Nothing  that  would  be  wise." 

"  But  you  promised  me  to  go  and  see  her 
the  afternoon  we  went  to  smash." 

"So  I  did,  and  I'll  go  if  you  wish  me 
to." 

"When?" 

"  To-morrow  morning.  It  is  against  my 
judgment  to  do  anything  until  you  hear 
from  her.  A  woman  always  finds  the  way. 
Madeleine  is  no  exception.  She  loves  you 
too  well  not  to.  But  I'll  go,  my  boy,  and 
try." 

"  You  must  go.     I  tell  you  I  can't  and 

won't   wait.      I    have    done    nothing   I'm 

ashamed  of.    Our  wedding  is  off,  of  course, 

until  I  can  look  around  and  see  what  I'm 

[188] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

going  to  do,  but  that's  no  reason  why  we 
can't  continue  to  see  each  other." 

The  butler  met  him  with  a  polite  but  de 
cided:  "  Miss  Eggleston  is  not  receiving." 

"  Take  her  that  card,"  said  Gregg. 
"  I'll  wait  here  for  an  answer." 

The  erect  figure  of  the  painter,  his  per 
fect  address,  coupled  with  the  air  of  com 
mand  which  always  seemed  a  part  of  him, 
produced  an  instantaneous  curve  in  the  but 
ler's  spine. 

"  Step  into  the  library,  sir,"  he  said  in 
a  softer  tone  as  he  pushed  aside  the  heavy 
portieres  for  Adam  to  enter. 

Gregg  entered  the  curtain-muffled  room 
with  its  marble  statues,  huge  Sevres  vases 
and  ponderous  gold  frames,  swept  a  glance 
over  the  blue  satin  sofas  and  cumbersome 
chairs  in  the  hope  of  finding  Madeleine 
[189] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

curled  up  somewhere  among  the  heap  of 
cushions,  and  then,  hat  in  hand,  took  up  his 
position  in  front  of  the  cheerless,  freshly 
varnished  hearth  to  await  that  young  lady's 
coming.  What  he  would  say  or  how  he 
would  approach  the  subject  nearest  to  his 
heart  would  depend  on  her  mental  attitude. 
That  she  loved  Phil  as  dearly  as  he  loved 
her  there  was  no  question.  That  she  had 
begun  to  suffer  for  loss  of  him  was  equally 
sure.  A  leaf  from  his  own  past  told  him 
that. 

Again  the  butler's  step  was  heard  in  the 
hall;  there  came  a  sound  of  an  opening 
door,  and  Mr.  Eggleston  entered. 

As  he  approached  the  dealer's  descrip 
tion  of  his  white  hair  and  red  face — a  sub 
ject  Franz  Hal  would  have  loved — came 
back  to  the  painter. 

Adam  advanced  to  meet  him  with  that 

[  190] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

perfect  poise  which  distinguished  him  in 
surprises  of  this  kind.  "  Mr.  Eggleston, 
is  it  not?" 

"  Yes,  and  whom  have  I  the  pleasure  of 
addressing?  " — glancing  at  the  card  in  his 
hand. 

u  I  am  Adam  Gregg.  We  were  to  meet 
some  time  ago,  when  I  was  to  paint  your 
portrait.  This  time  I  came  to  see  your 
daughter  Madeleine." 

Mr.  Eggleston's  manner  dropped  ther 
mometer-like  from  the  summer  heat  of 
graciousness  to  the  zero  of  reserve:  the 
portrait  was  no  longer  a  pleasant  topic. 
Moreover  he  had  always  believed  that  the 
painter  had  advised  Philip  the  morning  of 
his  "  asinine  declination  "  of  the  trust  com 
pany's  proposition. 

"  May  I  ask  what  for?"  It  was  a 
brutal  way  of  putting  it,  but  the  banker  had 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

a  brutal  way  of  putting  things.  Generally 
he  confounded  the  person  before  him  with 
the  business  discussed,  venting  upon  him 
all  his  displeasure. 

"  To  try  and  have  her  receive  Philip 
Colton,  or  at  least  to  get  her  reason  for  not 
doing  so.  It  may  be  that  it  is  due  to  your 
own  objection;  if  so  I  should  like  to  talk 
the  matter  over  with  you." 

"  You  are  quite  right,  sir;  I  do  object — 
object  in  the  strongest  manner.  I  don't  wish 
him  here.  I've  had  all  I  want  of  Mr.  Col- 
ton,  and  so  has  my  daughter." 

"  May  I  ask  why?" 

"  I  don't  know  that  it  is  necessary  for  me 
to  discuss  it  with  you,  Mr.  Gregg." 

"  I  am  his  closest  friend,  and  have 
known  him  ever  since  he  was  five  years 
old." 

"  Then  I  positively  decline  to  discuss  it 
[  192] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

with  you,  sir,  for  I  should  certainly  say 
something  that  would  wound  your  feelings. 
It  is  purely  a  matter  of  business,  and  that 
you  artists  never  understand.  If  you  will 
excuse  me  I  will  return  to  Mrs.  Eggleston; 
she  is  an  invalid,  as  you  have  no  doubt 
heard,  and  I  spend  the  morning  hour  with 
her.  I  must  ask  you  to  excuse  me,  sir.1* 

On  his  return  to  his  studio  Gregg  be 
gan  to  pace  the  floor,  his  habit  when  any 
thing  worried  him.  Phil  was  to  return 
at  three  o'clock  and  he  had  nothing  but  bad 
news  for  him.  That  his  visit  had  only 
made  matters  worse  was  too  evident. 
Never  in  all  his  life  had  he  been  treated 
with  such  discourtesy.  Eggleston  was  a 
vulgarian  and  a  brute,  but  he  was  Made 
leine's  father,  and  he  could  not  encourage 
her  to  defy  him.  He,  of  course,  wanted 

[  193] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

these  two  young  people  to  meet,  but  not  in 
any  clandestine  way.  Her  father,  no  doubt, 
would  soon  see  things  differently,  for  suc 
cess  was  the  foot-rule  by  which  he  meas 
ured  a  man,  and  Phil,  with  his  energy  and 
honesty,  would  gain  this  in  time.  Phil 
must  wait.  Everything  would  come  right 
once  the  boy  got  on  his  legs  again.  The 
failure  had  in  every  way  been  an  honest 
one.  In  this  connection  he  recalled  the  re 
mark  of  a  visitor  who  had  dropped  into  the 
studio  the  day  before  and  who  in  discuss 
ing  the  failure  had  said  in  the  crisp  ver 
nacular  of  the  Street:  "Bitten  off  more 
than  they  could  chew,  but  square  as  a 
brick."  It  was  an  expression  new  to  him 
but  he  had  caught  its  meaning.  That  his 
fellow-brokers  had  this  opinion  of  Philip 
meant  half  the  battle  won.  Men  who  by  a 
lift  of  their  fingers  lose  or  make  fortunes 
[  194] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

in  a  din  that  drowns  their  voices,  and  who 
never  lie  or  crawl,  no  matter  what  the  con 
sequences,  have  only  contempt  for  a  man 
who  hides  his  wallet.  "  Hands  out  and 
everything  you've  got  on  the  table,''  is 
their  creed.  This  done  their  pockets  are 
wide  open  and  every  hand  raised  to  help 
the  other  fellow  to  his  feet. 

All  these  thoughts  raced  through 
Adam's  head  as  he  continued  to  pace  the 
floor.  Now  and  then  he  would  stop  in  his 
walk  and  look  intently  at  some  figure  in 
the  costly  rug  beneath  his  feet,  as  if  the 
solution  of  his  problem  lay  in  its  richly 
colored  surface.  Two  questions  recurred 
again  and  again:  What  could  he  do  to 
help  ?  and  how  could  he  get  hold  of  Made 
leine? 

As  the  hours  wore  on  he  became  more 
restless.  Early  that  morning — before  he 
[195] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

had  gone  to  Madeleine's — his  brush, 
spurred  by  his  hopes,  had  worked  as  if  it 
had  been  inspired.  Not  only  had  the  sit 
ter's  head  been  blocked  in  with  masterly 
strokes,  but  with  such  fulness  and  power 
that  few  of  them  need  ever  be  retouched — 
a  part  of  his  heart,  in  fact,  had  gone  into 
the  blending  of  every  flesh  tone.  But  it 
was  all  over  now ;  his  enthusiasm  and  sure- 
ness  had  fled.  In  fact,  he  had,  on  his  re 
turn,  dropped  his  brushes  into  his  ginger- 
jar  for  his  servant  to  clean,  and  given  up 
painting  for  the  day. 

Soon  he  began  fussing  about  his  studio, 
looking  over  a  portfolio  for  a  pose  he 
needed;  replacing  some  books  in  his  li 
brary;  adding  fresh  water  to  the  roses  that 
stood  under  Olivia's  portrait — gazing  up 
into  its  eyes  as  if  some  help  could  be  found 
in  their  depths — his  uneasiness  increasing 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

every  moment  as  the  hour  of  Phil's  return 
approached. 

At  the  sound  of  a  quick  step  in  the  cor 
ridor — how  well  he  knew  the  young  man's 
tread — he  threw  open  the  door  and  pushed 
aside  the  velvet  curtain.  Better  welcome 
the  poor  fellow  with  a  smile  and  a  cheery 
word. 

"  Come  in,  Phil!  "  he  cried— "  Come— 
Why,  Madeleine  I" 

She  stood  just  outside  the  door,  a  heavy 
brown  veil  tied  over  her  hat,  her  trim  fig 
ure  half  concealed  by  a  long  cloak.  For 
an  instant  she  did  not  speak,  nor  did  she 
move. 

"  Yes,  it's  I,  Mr.  Gregg,"  she  sobbed. 
"Are  you  sure  there's  nobody  with  you? 
Oh,  I'm  so  wretched!  I  had  to  come: 
Please  let  me  talk  to  you.  Father  told  me 
you  had  been  to  see  me.  He  was  furious 

[  197] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

when  you  went  away,  and  I  know  how  he 
must  have  behaved  to  you."  She  seemed 
completely  prostrated.  Buoyant  tempera 
ments  pendulate  in  extremes. 

He  had  drawn  her  inside  now,  his  arms 
about  her,  holding  her  erect  as  he  led  her 
to  a  seat  with  the  same  tenderness  of  voice 
and  manner  he  would  have  shown  his  own 
daughter. 

"  You  poor,  dear  child  I"  he  cried  at 
last.  "  Now  tell  me  about  it.  You  know 
how  I  love  you  both." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Gregg,  it  is  so  dreadful!" 
she  moaned  in  piteous  tone  as  she  sank 
upon  the  cushions  of  the  divan,  Adam  sit 
ting  beside  her,  her  hand  tight  clasped  in 
his  own.  "  I  didn't  think  Phil  would  bring 
all  this  trouble  on  us.  I  would  forgive  him 
anything  but  the  way  in  which  he  deceived 
papa.  He  knew  there  was  no  copper  in 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

the  mine,  and  he  kept  saying  there  was,  and 
went  right  on  speculating  and  using  up 
everything  they  had,  and  then  when  it  was 
all  to  be  found  out  he  turned  coward  and 
ruined  everybody — and  broke  my  heart! 
Oh,  the  cruel — cruel — "  and  again  she  hid 
her  face  in  the  cushions. 

"  What  would  you  think,  little  girl,  if  I 
told  you  that  I  advised  him  to  do  it?  "  he 
pleaded  as  he  patted  her  shoulder  to  quiet 
her. 

"  You  couldn't  do  it!  "  Madeleine  burst 
out  in  an  incredulous  tone,  raising  herself 
on  her  elbow  to  look  the  better  into  his 
eyes.  '  You  wouldn't  do  it!  You  are  too 
kind!" 

"  But  I  did — as  much  for  your  sake  and 
your  father's  and  brother's  as  for  his  own. 
All  the  firm  has  lost  so  far  is  money.  That 
can  be  replaced.  Had  Philip  not  told  the 

[  199] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

truth  it  would  have  been  their  honor.  That 
could  never  have  been  replaced." 

And  then  with  her  hands  fast  in  his, 
every  thought  that  crossed  her  mind  re 
vealed  in  her  sweet,  girlish  face,  Adam,  his 
big,  frank,  brown  eyes  looking  into  hers, 
told  her  the  story  of  Philip's  resolve.  Not 
the  part  which  the  portrait  had  played — 
not  one  word  of  that.  She  would  not  have 
understood;  then,  too,  that  was  Phil's  se 
cret,  not  his,  to  tell;  but  the  awakening  of 
the  dormant  nature  of  an  honest  man,  in- 
crusted  with  precedents  and  half-strangled 
in  financial  sophistries,  to  the  truth  of  what 
lay  about  him. 

"  You  wouldn't  want  his  lips  to  touch 
yours,  my  child,  if  they  were  stained  with 
a  lie;  nor  could  you  have  worn  your  wed 
ding-gown  if  the  money  that  paid  for  it 
had  been  stolen.  Your  father  will  see  it  in 
[  200  ] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

the  same  light  some  day.  Then,  if  he  had 
a  dozen  daughters  he  would  give  every  one 
of  them  to  men  like  Philip  Colton.  The 
boy  wants  your  help  now;  he  is  without  a 
penny  in  the  world  and  has  all  his  life  to 
begin  over  again.  Now  he  can  begin  it 
clean.  Get  your  arms  around  his  neck  and 
tell  him  you  love  him  and  trust  him.  He 
needs  you  more  to-day  than  he  will  ever 
need  you  in  all  his  life." 

She  had  crept  closer  to  him,  nestling  un 
der  his  big  shoulders.  It  seemed  good  to 
touch  him.  Somehow  there  radiated  from 
this  man  a  strength  and  tenderness  which 
she  had  never  known  before:  In  the  tones 
of  his  voice,  in  the  feel  of  his  hand,  in  the 
restfulness  that  pervaded  his  every  word 
and  gesture.  For  the  first  time,  it  seemed 
to  her,  she  realized  what  it  was  to  have  a 
father. 

[201] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

"  And  won't  you  talk  to  papa  again,  Mr. 
Gregg?"  she  pleaded  in  a  more  hopeful 
voice. 

"  Yes,  if  you  wish  me  to,  but  it  would  do 
no  good — not  now.  It  is  not  your  father 
this  time,  it's  you.  Will  you  help  Phil 
make  the  fight,  little  girl?  You  love  him, 
don't  you?  " 

"Oh,  with  all  my  heart !" 

"  Well,  then,  tell  him  so.  He  will  be 
here  in  a  few  minutes." 

Madeleine  sprang  from  her  seat: 

"  No,  I  must  not  see  him,"  she  cried  in 
frightened  tones;  "  I  promised  my  father. 
I  came  at  this  time  because  I  knew  he 
would  not  be  here.  Let  me  go:  We  are 
having  trouble  enough.  No — please,  Mr. 
Gregg — no,  I  must  go." 

"And  what  shall   I  tell  Phil?"     He 
dared  not  persuade  her. 
[  202  ] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

"  Tell  him— tell  him—  Oh,  Mr.  Gregg, 
you  know  how  I  love  him!  " 

She  was  through  the  curtains  and  half 
way  down  the  corridor  before  he  could 
reach  the  door.  All  the  light  had  come 
back  to  her  eyes  and  the  spring  to  her  step. 

Adam  walked  to  the  banisters  and  lis 
tened  to  the  patter  of  her  little  feet  de 
scending  the  stairs  to  the  street.  Then  he 
went  back  into  the  studio  and  drew  the 
curtains.  Thank  God,  her  heart  was 
all  right. 

Once  more  he  picked  his  brushes 
from  the  ginger-jar  where  in  his  despair  he 
had  thrust  them.  Nothing  in  the  situation 
had  changed.  The  fear  that  Madeleine 
had  lost  her  love  for  Phil  had  never  trou 
bled  him  for  an  instant.  Women's  hearts 
did  not  beat  that  way.  That  Phil's  future 
was  assured  once  he  got  his  feet  under  him 
[203] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

was  also  a  foregone  conclusion.  What 
Mr.  Eggleston  thought  about  it  was  an 
other  matter,  and  yet  not  a  serious  one. 
He  might  be  ugly  for  a  time — would  be — 
but  that  was  to  be  expected  in  a  man  who 
had  lost  his  special  capital,  a  son-in-law  and 
considerable  of  his  reputation  at  one  blow. 
What  had  evidently  hurt  the  banker  most 
was  the  wounding  of  his  pride.  He  had 
always  stood  well  with  Mr.  Stockton — 
must  continue  to  do  so  when  he  realized 
how  many  of  his  other  interests  depended 
on  his  good-will  and  the  trust  company's 
assistance.  Phil  had  not  told  Adam  this 
when  he  went  over  the  scene  in  the  office 
the  morning  they  closed  up  the  accounts, 
but  Gregg  had  read  between  the  lines. 
The  one  bright  ray  of  sunshine  was  Made 
leine's  refusal  to  break  her  word  to  her 
father.  That  pleased  him  most  of  all. 
[204] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

A  knock  at  the  door  interrupted  his  rev- 
ery.  It  did  not  sound  like  Phil's,  but  Adam 
had  been  deceived  once  before  and  he 
hurried  to  meet  him. 

This  time  a  messenger  stood  outside. 

"  A  note  for  Mr.  Adam  Gregg,"  he 
said.  "  Are  you  the  man?  " 

Adam  receipted  the  slip,  dismissed  the 
boy  and  stepped  to  the  middle  of  the  room 
under  the  skylight  to  see  the  better.  It  was 
from  Phil. 

"I  cannot  reach  you  until  late.  Have  just  re 
ceived  a  note  from  the  Seaboard  Trust  Company  say 
ing  Mr.  Stockton  wants  to  see  me.  More  trouble  for 
P.  C.  &  Co.,  I  guess.  Hope  for  good  news  from 
Madeleine." 

This  last  note  filled  his  mind  with  a  cer 
tain    undefined    uneasiness.      What    fresh 
trouble  had  arisen?     Had  some  other  se 
curities  on  which  money  had  been  loaned 
[205] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

—  made  prior  to  Phil's  awakening  — 
been  found  wanting  in  value?  He  hoped 
the  boy's  past  wasn't  going  to  hurt 
him. 

With  this  new  anxiety  filling  his  mind  he 
laid  down  his  brushes — he  had  not  yet 
touched  his  canvas — put  on  his  hat  and 
strode  out  into  the  street.  A  breath  of 
fresh  air  would  clear  his  head — it  always 
did. 

For  two  hours  he  walked  the  pavements 
— up  through  the  Park ;  out  along  the  edge 
of  the  river  and  back  again.  With  every 
step  there  came  to  him  the  realization  of 
the  parallels  existing  between  his  own  life's 
romance  and  that  of  Philip's.  Some  of 
these  were  mere  creations  of  his  brain; 
others — especially  those  which  ended  in 
the  sacrifice  of  a  man's  career  for  what  he 
considered  to  be  right — had  a  certain  basis 
[206] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

of  fact.  Then  a  shiver  crept  over  him: 
For  honor  he  had  lost  the  woman  he  loved : 
Was  Phil  to  tread  the  same  weary  path  and 
for  the  same  cause?  And  if  fate  should 
be  thus  cruel  would  he  and  Madeleine  for 
get  in  time  and  lead  their  lives  anew  and 
apart,  or  would  their  souls  cry  out  in  an 
guish  as  his  had  done  all  these  years,  each 
day  bringing  a  new  longing  and  each  day 
a  new  pain:  he  in  all  the  vigor  of  his 
manhood  and  the  full  flower  of  his  ac 
complishment  and  still  alone  and  deso 
late. 

With  these  reflections,  none  of  them 
logical — but  all  showing  the  perturbed  con 
dition  of  his  mind  and  his  anxiety  for  those 
he  loved,  he  mounted  the  stairs  of  the 
building  and  pushed  open  the  door  of  his 
studio. 

It  had  grown  quite  dark  and  the  studio 
[207] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

was  filled  with  shadows.  As  he  crossed  to 
the  mantel — he  rarely  entered  the  room 
without  pausing  for  a  moment  in  front  of 
the  portrait — Olivia's  face,  with  that 
strange,  wan  expression  which  the  fading 
light  always  brought  to  view,  seemed  to 
stand  out  from  the  frame  as  if  in  appeal, 
a  discovery  that  brought  a  further  sinking 
of  the  heart  to  his  already  overburdened 
spirit. 

With  a  quick  movement,  as  if  dreading 
the  power  of  prolonged  darkness,  he  struck 
a  match  and  flashed  up  the  circle  of  gas 
jets,  flooding  the  studio  with  light. 

Suddenly  he  stopped  and  swept  his  eyes 
rapidly  around  the  room.  Some  one  beside 
himself  was  present.  He  had  caught  the 
sound  of  a  slight  movement  and  the  mur 
mur  of  whispering  voices.  Then  a  low, 
rippling  laugh  fell  upon  his  ears — the  notes 

[208] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

of  a  bird  singing  in  the  dark,  and  the  next 
instant  Madeleine  sprang  from  behind  a 
screen  where  she  had  been  hiding  and  threw 
her  arms  around  his  neck. 

"  Guess !  "  she  cried,  pressing  his  ruddy 
cheeks,  fresh  from  his  walk,  between  her 
tiny  palms.  "Guess  what's  happened! 
Quick !" 

The  revulsion  was  so  great  that  for  the 
moment  he  lost  his  breath. 

"No!  you  couldn't  guess!  Nobody 
could.  Oh,  I'm  so  happy!  Father's — 
made — it — up — with— Phil!  " 

"Made  it  up!  How  do  you  know?" 
he  stammered. 

"  Phil's  just  left  him.  Come  out, 
Phil!" 

Phil's  head  now  peered  from  behind  the 
screen. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that,  Old  Gen- 
[209] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

tleman?"  he  cried,  clasping  Adam's  out 
stretched  hand. 

"  And  there  isn't  any  trouble,  Phil,  over 
Mr.  Stockton's  note?"  exclaimed  Gregg 
in  a  joyous  but  baffled  tone  of  voice:  he 
was  still  completely  at  sea  over  the  situa 
tion. 

"Trouble  over  what?"  asked  Phil, 
equally  mystified. 

"  That's  what  I  want  to  know.  You 
wrote  me  that  it  meant  more  trouble  for 
your  firm." 

"  Yes,  but  that  was  before  I  had  seen 
Mr.  Stockton.  Then  I  ran  across  Mr. 
Eggleston  just  as  he  was  coming  out  of  the 
trust  company,  and  he  sent  me  to  Made 
leine — and  we  couldn't  get  here  quick 
enough.  She  beat  me  running  up  your 
stairs.  Hasn't  she  told  you?  And  you 
don't  know  about  Stockton's  letter?  No! 
[210] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

Why,  he  has  offered  me  the  position  of 
head  of  the  bond  department  of  the  trust 
company  at  a  salary  of  ten  thousand  a  year, 
and  I  go  to  work  to-morrow!  Here's 
his  letter.  Let  me  read  you  the  last 
clause :  " 

"  No,  let  me,"  cried  Madeleine,  reach 
ing  for  the  envelope. 

"  No— I'll  read  it,"  begged  Phil. 

"  No  you  won't!  I'll  read  it  myself!  " 
burst  out  Madeleine,  catching  the  letter 
from  Phil's  hand  and  whirling  around  the 
room  in  her  glee.  "Listen:  'The  Trust 
Company  needs  men  like  you,  Mr.  Colton, 
and  so  does  the  Street!'  Isn't  that 
lovely?" 

"  And  that's  not  all,  Old  Gentleman!  " 
shouted  Phil.  "  We  are  going  to  be  mar 
ried  in  a  month.  What  do  you  think  of 
that!" 

[211] 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    AN 

"And  Mr.  Eggleston  is  willing!" 

"  Willing!  Why,  you  don't  think  he 
would  offend  Mr.  Stockton,  do  you?  " 

Gregg  had  them  in  his  arms  now  — 
Madeleine  a  bundle  of  joyous  laughter; 
Phil  radiant,  self-contained,  determined. 

For  a  brief  moment  the  three  stood  si 
lent.  A  hush  came  over  them.  Adam's 
head  was  bent,  his  forehead  almost  touch 
ing  Phil's  shoulder,  a  prayer  trembling  on 
his  lips.  Then  with  a  sudden  movement 
he  led  them  to  the  portrait,  and  in  an  ex 
ultant  tone,  through  which  an  unbidden 
sob  fought  its  way,  he  cried: 

"  Look  up,  my  children  —  up  into  your 
mother's  face.  See  the  joy  in  her  eyes  ! 
It  is  all  her  doing,  Phil. 

"Oh!  my  beloved,  now  you  know." 


[  212  ] 


OLD-FASHIONED    GENTLEMAN 

The  picture  has  never  been  taken  from 
Gregg's  studio.  It  still  keeps  its  place  over 
the  mantel.  There  is  rarely  a  day  that  one 
of  the  three  does  not  place  flowers  beneath 
it;  sometimes  Madeleine  and  Phil  arrange 
them;  sometimes  Adam;  and  sometimes 
little  blue-eyed,  golden-haired  Olivia  is 
lifted  up  in  Gregg's  strong  arms  so  that 
she  may  fill  the  jar  with  her  own  wee  hands. 


THE   END 


[213] 


LOAN  DEPT 


or 


T  Tk  91  A— 50771-11/62 

L(D3279slO)476B 


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